MIKE 
FLANNERY 

on  duty  and  off 


ELLIS 

PARKER/^ 

BUTLER! 


AUTHOR  OF 

"PIGS  is  PIGS 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

DAVIS 

GIFT  OF 

THE  PIERCE  FAMILY 


J-ZJ 


Mike  Flannery,  On  Duty  and  Off 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 

* 

That  Pup 

The  Great  American  Pie  Company 
Pigs  is  Pigs 
Kilo 


MIKE    FLANNERY 

On  Duty  and  Off 

BY 

ELLIS   PARKER  BUTLER 


Illustrations  by  Gustavus  C.  Widney 


NEW  YORK 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 
MCMIX 


LIBRARY 

i7  rAT.TFORNIA 


ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED,  INCLUDING  THAT  OF  TRANSLATION 
INTO  FOREIGN  LANGUAGES,  INCLUDING  THE  SCANDINAVIAN 


COPYRIGHT,  1909,  BY 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

PUBLISHED,  MAY,  1909 


The  various  chapters  of  this  book  have  also  been  copyrighted  sepa- 
rately as  follows:  "Just  Like  a  Cat,"  copyright,  1908,  by  International 
Magazine  Company;  "  The  Three  Hundred,"  copyright,  1906.  by  The 
Curtie  Publishing  Company;  "  Fleas  Will  Be  Pleas,"  copyright,  1907,  by 
The  Phillips  Publishing  Company,  republished  through  the  courtesy  of 
the  American  Magazine. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

I.    JUST  LIKE  A  CAT      ....      3 

II.    THE  THREE  HUNDRED  ...    37 

III.    FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS  .  66 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"  (Pho-e-nix!'    Is  it  a  man's  name, 

I  dunUO  ?" Frontispiece 

Facing 
page 

"  ' '  Tis  well  enough  t  say  kape  it, 
but  cats  like  thim  does  not  kape 
very  well9  " 12 

"  '/  will  tell  you  what  it  is,'  said  Mr. 

Gratz" 40 

"Her   pencil   was   delicately  poised 

above  the  ruled  page "  .     .     .     .     44 


JUST  LIKE  A  CAT 


JUST  LIKE  A  CAT 

They  were  doing  good  work  out  back  of 
the  Westcote  express  office.  The  Westcote 
Land  and  Improvement  Company  was 
ripping  the  whole  top  off  Seller's  Hill  and 
dumping  it  into  the  swampy  meadow,  and 
Mike  Flannery  liked  to  sit  at  the  back 
door  of  the  express  office,  when  there  was 
nothing  to  do,  and  watch  the  endless  string 
of  waggons  dump  the  soft  clay  and  sand 
there.  Already  the  swamp  was  a  vast  land- 
scape of  small  hills  and  valleys  of  new,  soft 
soil,  and  soon  it  would  burst  into  streets 
and  dwellings.  That  would  mean  more  work, 
but  Flannery  did  not  care;  the  company 
had  allowed  him  a  helper  already,  and 
Flannery  had  hopes  that  by  the  time  the 
swamp  was  populated  Timmy  would  be 


4  JUST  LIKE  A  CAT 

of  some  use.  He  doubted  it,  but  he  had 
hopes. 

The  four-thirty-two  train  had  just  pulled 
in,  and  Timmy  had  gone  across  to  meet  it 
with  his  hand-truck,  and  now  he  returned. 
He  came  lazily,  pulling  the  cart  behind  him 
with  one  hand.  He  did  n't  seem  to  care 
whether  he  ever  got  back  to  the  office. 
Flannery's  quick  blood  rebelled. 

"Is  that  all  th'  faster  ye  can  go?"  he 
shouted.  "Make  haste!  Make  haste!  'Tis 
an  ixpriss  company  ye  are  workin'  fer,  an' 
not  a  cimitery.  T'  look  at  ye  wan  w'u'd 
think  ye  was  nawthin'  but  a  funeral!" 

"Sure  I  am,"  said  Timmy.  "'Tis  as  ye 
have  said  it,  Flannery;  I'm  th'  funeral." 

Flannery  stuck  out  his  under  jaw,  and 
his  eyes  blazed.  For  nothing  at  all  he  would 
have  let  Timmy  have  a  fist  in  the  side  of  the 
head,  but  what  was  the  use?  There  are 
some  folks  you  can't  pound  sense  into,  and 
Timmy  was  one  of  them. 

"What  have  ye  got,  then  ?"  asked  Flannery. 


JUST  LIKE  A  CAT  5 

"Nawthin'  but  th'  corpse,"  said  Timmy 
impudently,  and  Flannery  did  do  it.  He 
swung  his  big  right  hand  at  the  lad,  and 
would  have  taught  him  something,  but 
Timmy  was  n't  there.  He  had  dodged. 
Flannery  ground  his  teeth,  and  bent  over  the 
hand-truck.  The  next  moment  he  straightened 
up  and  motioned  to  Timmy,  who  had 
stepped  back  from  him,  nearly  half  a  block 
back. 

"  Come  back,"  he  said  peacefully.  "  Come 
on  back.  This  wan  time  I  '11  do  nawthin'  to 
ye.  Come  on  back  an'  lift  th'  box  into  th' 
office.  But  th'  next  time " 

Timmy  came  back,  grinning.  He  took  the 
box  off  the  truck,  carried  it  into  the  office,  and 
set  it  on  the  floor.  It  was  not  a  large  box, 
nor  heavy,  just  a  small  box  with  strips  nailed 
across  the  top,  and  there  was  an  Angora  cat  in 
it.  It  was  a  fine,  large  Angora  cat,  but  it  was 
dead. 

Flannery  looked  at  the  tag  that  was  nailed 
on  the  side  of  the  box.  "Ye  'd  betther  git  th' 


6  JUST  LIKE  A  CAT 

waggon,  Timmy,"  he  said  slowly,  "  an*  pro- 
ceed with  th'  funeral  up  t'  Missus  Warman's. 
This  be  no  weather  for  perishable  goods  t'  be 
lyin'  'round  th'  office.  Quick  speed  is  th' 
motto  av  th'  Interurban  Ixpriss  Company 
whin  th'  weather  is  eighty-four  in  th'  shade. 
An',  Timmy,"  he  called  as  the  boy  moved 
toward  the  door,  "make  no  difficulty  sh'u'd 
she  insist  on  receiptin'  fer  th'  goods  as  bein' 
damaged.  If  nicissary  take  th'  receipt  fer 
'Wan  long-haired  cat,  damaged.'  But  make 
haste.  'Tis  in  me  mind  that  sh'u'd  ye  wait 
too  long  Missus  Warman  will  not  be  receivin' 
th'  consignment  at  all.  She  's  wan  av  th' 
particular  kind,  Timmy." 

In  half  an  hour  Timmy  was  back.  He 
came  into  the  office  lugging  the  box,  and  let  it 
drop  on  the  floor  with  a  thud. 

"She  won't  take  no  damaged  cats,"  said 
Timmy  shortly. 

Mike  Flannery  laid  his  pen  on  his  desk 
with  almost  painful  slowness  and  precision. 
Slowly  he  slid  off  his  chair,  and  slowly  he 


JUST  LIKE  A  CAT  7 

picked  up  his  cap  and  put  it  on  his  head.  He 
did  not  say  a  word.  His  brow  was  drawn 
into  deep  wrinkles,  and  his  eyes  glittered  as 
he  walked  up  to  the  box  with  almost  super- 
naturally  stately  tread  and  picked  it  up.  His 
lips  were  firmly  set  as  he  walked  out  of  the 
office  into  the  hot  sun.  Timmy  watched  him 
silently. 

In  less  than  half  an  hour  Mike  Flannery 
came  into  the  office  again,  quietly,  and  set  the 
box  silently  on  the  floor.  Noiselessly  he 
hung  up  his  cap  on  the  nail  above  the  big 
calendar  back  of  the  counter.  He  sank  into 
his  chair  and  looked  for  a  long  while  at  the 
blank  wall  opposite  him. 

"An5  t'  think,"  he  said  at  last,  like  one  still 
wrapped  in  a  great  blanket  of  surprise,  "t' 
think  she  did  n't  swear  wan  cuss  th'  whole 
time!  Thim  ladies  is  wonderful  folks!  I 
wonder  did  she  say  th'  same  t'  ye  as  she  said  t' 
me,  Timmy?" 

"Sure  she  did,"  said  Timmy,  grinning  as 
usual. 


8  JUST  LIKE  A  CAT 

"Will  ye  think  of  that,  now!"  said  Flan- 
nery  with  admiration.  "'Tis  a  grand  con- 
stitution she  must  be  havin',  that  lady.  Twice 
in  wan  afternoon!  I  wonder  could  she  say 
th'  same  three  times  ?  'Tis  not  possible." 

He  ran  his  hand  across  his  forehead  and 
sighed,  and  his  eyes  fell  on  the  box.  It  was 
still  where  he  had  put  it,  but  he  seemed  sur- 
prised to  see  it  there.  He  had  no  recollection 
of  anything  after  Mrs.  Warman  had  begun  to 
talk.  He  picked  up  his  pen  again. 

"Interurban  Express  Co.,  New  York,"  he 
wrote.  "Consiny  Mrs.  Warman  wont  re- 
ciev  cat  way  bill  23645  Hibbert  and  Jones  con- 
sinor  cat  is " 

He  grinned  and  ran  the  end  of  the  pen 
through  his  stubble  of  red  hair. 

"What  is  th'  swell  worrd  fer  dead,  Tim- 
my  ?"  he  asked.  "I  'm  writin'  a  letter  t'  th' 
swell  clerks  in  New  Yorrk  that  be  always 
guyin'  me  about  me  letters,  an'  I  '11  hand 
thim  a  swell  worrd  fer  wance." 

"Deceased,"    said   Tirnmy,   grinning. 


JUST  LIKE  A  CAT  9 

"'Tis  not  that  wan  I  was  thinkin'  of," 
said  Flannery,  "but  that  wan  will  do.  'Tis 
a  high-soundin'  worrd,  deceased." 

He  dipped  his  pen  in  the  ink  again. 

" — cat  is  diseased,"  he  wrote.  "Pleas 
give  disposal.  Mike  Flannery." 

When  the  New  York  office  of  the  Inter- 
urban  Express  Company  received  Flannery's 
letter  they  called  up  Hibbert  &  Jones  on  the 
telephone.  Hibbert  &  Jones  was  the  big 
department  store,  and  it  was  among  the  Inter- 
urban's  best  customers.  When  the  Inter- 
urban  could  do  it  a  favour  it  was  policy  to  do  so, 
and  the  clerk  knew  that  sending  a  cat  back 
and  forth  by  rail  was  not  the  best  thing  for  the 
cat,  especially  if  the  cat  was  diseased. 

"That  cat,"  said  the  manager  of  the  live- 
animal  department  of  Hibbert  &  Jones,  "was 
in  good  health  when  it  left  here,  absolutely,  so 
far  as  we  know.  If  it  was  not  it  is  none  of  our 
business.  Mrs.  Warman  came  in  and  picked 
the  cat  out  from  a  dozen  or  more,  and  paid  for 
it.  It  is  her  cat.  It  does  n't  interest  us  any 


10  JUST  LIKE  A  CAT 

more.  And  another  thing:  You  gave  us  a 
receipt  for  that  cat  in  good  order;  if  it  was 
damaged  in  transit  it  is  none  of  our  affair, 
is  it?" 

"Owner's  risk,"  said  the  Interurban  clerk. 
"You  know  we  only  accept  live  animals  for 
transportation  at  owner's  risk." 

"That  lets  us  out,  then,"  said  the  Hibbert 
&  Jones  clerk.  "  Mrs.  Warman  is  the  owner. 
Ring  off,  please." 

Westcote  is  merely  a  suburb  of  New  York, 
and  mails  are  frequent,  and  Mike  Flannery 
found  a  letter  waiting  for  him  when  he  opened 
the  office  the  next  morning.  It  was  brief.  It 
said: 

"  Regarding  cat,  W.  B.  23645,  this  was  sent 
at  owner's  risk,  and  Mrs.  Warman  seems  to  be 
the  owner.  Cat  should  be  delivered  to  her. 
We  are  writing  her  from  this  office,  but  in  case 
she  does  not  call  for  it  immediately,  you  will 
keep  it  carefully  in  your  office.  You  had  bet- 
ter have  a  veterinary  look  at  the  cat.  Feed  it 
regularly." 


JUST  LIKE  A  CAT  11 

Mike  Flannery  folded  the  letter  slowly  and 
looked  down  at  the  cat.  "Feed  it!  he 
exclaimed.  "I  wonder,  now,  was  that  a  mis- 
print fer  fumigate  it,  fer  that  is  what  it  will  be 
wantin'  mighty  soon,  if  I  know  anything 
about  deceased  cats.  I  wonder  do  thim  dudes 
in  New  Yorrk  be  thinkin,  th'  long-haired  cat 
is  only  fainted,  mebby?  Do  they  think  they 
see  Mike  Flannery  sittin'  be  th'  bedside  av  th' 
cat,  fannin'  it  t'  bring  it  back  t'  conscious- 
ness ?  Feed  it !  Niver  in  me  life  have  I  made 
a  specialty  av  cats,  long-haired  or  short- 
haired,  an'  I  do  not  be  pretindin'  t'  be  a  pro- 
fissor  av  cats,  but  'tis  me  sittled  belief  that 
whin  a  cat  is  as  dead  as  that  wan  is  it  stops 
eatin'." 

He  looked  resentfully  at  the  cat  in  the  box. 

"I  wonder  sh'u'd  I  put  th'  late  laminted  out 
on  th'  back  porrch  till  th'  veterinary  comes  t' 
take  its  pulse  ?  I  wonder  what  th'  ixpriss 
company  wants  a  veterinary  t'  butt  into  th' 
thing  fer  annyhow?  Is  it  th'  custom  now- 
adays t'  require  a  certificate  av  health  fer 


12  JUST  LIKE  A  CAT 

every  cat  that 's  as  dead  as  that  wan  is  before 
th'  funeral  comes  off?  Sure,  I  do  believe 
th'  ixpriss  company  has  doubts  av  Mike 
Flannery's  ability  t'  tell  is  a  cat  dead  or  no. 
Mebby  'tis  thrue.  Mebby  so.  But  wan 
thing  I  'm  dang  sure  av,  an'  that  is  that  sh'u'd 
the  weather  not  turrn  off  t'  a  cold  wave  by 
to-morry  mornin'  't  will  take  no  coroner  t' 
know  th'  cat  is  dead." 

He  opened  the  letter  again  and  reread  it. 
As  he  did  so  the  scowl  on  his  face  increased. 
He  held  up  the  letter  and  slapped  it  with  the 
back  of  his  hand. 

"'Kape  it  carefully  in  your  office,'"  he 
read  with  scorn.  "Sure!  An'  what  about 
Flannery  ?  Does  th'  man  think  I  'm  t'  sit  side 
be  side  with  th'  dead  pussy  cat  an'  thry  t' 
work  up  me  imagination  t'  thinkin'  I  'm 
sittin'  in  a  garden  av  tuberoses  ?  'Tis  well 
enough  t'  say  kape  it,  but  cats  like  thim  does 
not  kape  very  well.  Th'  less  said  about  th' 
way  they  kapes  th'  betther." 

Timmy  entered  the  office,  and  as  he  passed 


'Tis  well  enough  t9  say  kape  it,  but  cats  like 
tliirn  does  not  kape  very  well ' '' 


JUST  LIKE  A  CAT  13 

the  box  he  sniffed  the  air  in  a  manner  that  at 
once  roused  Flannery's  temper. 

"Sthop  that!"  he  shouted.  "I'll  have 
none  av  yer  foolin'  t'-day.  What  fer  are  ye 
puckerin'  up  yer  nose  at  th'  cat  fer  ?  There  's 
nawthin'  th'  matther  with  th'  cat.  'Tis  as 
sound  as  a  shillin',  an'  there  's  no  call  fer  ye  t' 
be  sniffin'  'round,  Timmy,  me  lad!  Go  about 
yer  worrk,  an'  lave  th'  cat  alone.  'Twill 
kape  —  'twill  kape  a  long  time  yet.  Don't  be 
so  previous,  me  lad.  If  ye  want  t'  sniff, 
there  '11  be  plinty  av  time  by  an'  by.  Plinty 
av  it." 

"Ye  ain't  goin'  t'  keep  th'  cat,  are  ye?" 
asked  Timmy  with  surprise. 

"Let  be,"  said  Flannery  softly,  with  a 
gentle  downward  motion  of  his  hands.  "Let 
be.  If  'tis  me  opinion  't  w'u'd  be  best  t'  kape 
th'  cat  fer  some  time,  I  will  kape  it.  Mike 
Flannery  is  th'  ixpriss  agint  av  this  office,  Tim, 
me  bye,  an'  sh'u'd  he  be  thinkin'  't  w'u'd  be 
best  fer  th'  intherists  av  th'  company  t'  kape 
a  cat  that  is  no  longer  livin',  he  will.  There 


14  JUST  LIKE  A  CAT 

be  manny  things  fer  ye  t'  learn,  Timmy,  before 
ye  know  th'  whole  av  th'  ixpriss  business,  an' 
dead  cats  is  wan  av  thim." 

"G'wan!"  said  Timmy  with  a  long-drawn 
vowel.     "I  know  a  dead  cat  when  I  see  one, 


now/' 


"  Mebby,"  said  Flannery  shortly.  "  Mebby. 
An'  mebby  not.  But  do  ye  know  where  Doc 
Pomeroy  hangs  out  ?  Go  an'  fetch  him." 

As  Timmy  passed  the  box  on  the  way  out 
he  looked  at  the  cat  with  renewed  interest. 
He  began  to  have  a  slight  doubt  that  he  might 
not  know  a  dead  cat  when  he  saw  one,  after 
all,  if  Flannery  was  going  to  have  a  veterinary 
come  to  look  at  it.  But  the  cat  certainly 
looked  dead  —  extremely  dead. 

Doc  Pomeroy  was  a  tall,  lank  man  with  a 
slouch  in  his  shoulders  and  a  sad,  hollow- 
chested  voice.  His  voice  was  the  deepest  and 
mournfullest  bass.  "The  boy  says  you  want 
me  to  look  at  a  cat,"  he  said  in  his  hopeless 
tone.  "Where  's  the  cat?" 

Flannery  walked  to  the  box  and  stood  over 


JUST  LIKE  A  CAT  15 

it,  and  Doc  Pomeroy  stood  at  the  other  side. 
He  did  not  even  bend  down  to  look  at 
the  cat. 

"  That  cat 's  dead,"  he  said  without  emotion. 

"Av  course  it  is,"  said  Flannery.  "'Twas 
dead  th'  firrst  time  I  seen  it." 

"The  boy  said  you  wanted  me  to  look  at  a 
cat,"  said  Doc  Pomeroy. 

"Sure!"  said  Flannery.  "Sure  I  did!" 
That 's  th'  cat.  I  wanted  ye  t'  see  th'  cat. 
What  might  be  yer  opinion  av  it  ?" 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  do  with  the 
cat?"  asked  Doc  Pomeroy. 

"Look  at  it,"  said  Flannery  pleasantly. 
"  Nawthin'  but  look  at  it.  Thim  is  me  orders. 
'Have  a  veterinary  look  at  th'  cat,'  is  what 
they  says.  An'  I  can  see  be  th'  look  on  ye 
that  'tis  yer  opinion  'tis  a  mighty  dead  cat." 

"That  cat,"  said  the  veterinary  slowly, 
"is  as  dead  as  it  can  be.  A  cat  can't  be  any 
deader  than  that  one  is." 

"It  cannot,"  said  Flannery  positively. 
"But  it  can  be  longer  dead." 


16  JUST  LIKE  A  CAT 

"If  I  had  a  cat  that  had  been  dead  longer 
than  that  cat  has  been  dead,"  said  Doc 
Pomeroy  as  he  moved  away,  "  I  would  n't 
have  to  see  it  to  know  that  it  was  dead.  A  cat 
that  has  been  dead  longer  than  that  cat  has 
been  dead  lets  you  know  it.  That  cat  will  let 
you  know  it  pretty  quick,  now." 

"Thank  ye,"  said  Flannery.  "An'  ye 
have  had  a  good  look  at  it  ?  Ye  w'u'd  n't  like 
t'  look  at  it  again,  mebby?  Thim  is  me 
orders,  fallow  ixamination  be  th'  veterin- 
ary, an'  if  't  w'u'd  be  anny  comfort  t'  ye  I 
will  draw  up  a  chair  so  ye  can  look  all  ye 
want  to." 

The  veterinary  raised  his  sad  eyes  to 
Flannery's  face  and  let  them  rest  there  a 
moment.  "Much  obliged,"  he  said,  but 
he  did  not  look  at  the  cat  again.  He  went 
back  to  his  headquarters. 

That  afternoon  Flannery  and  Timmy 
began  walking  quickly  when  they  passed  the 
box,  and  toward  evening,  when  Flannery  had 
to  make  out  his  reports,  he  went  out  on  the 


JUST  LIKE  A  CAT  17 

back  porch  and  wrote  them,  using  a  chair- 
seat  for  a  desk.  One  of  his  tasks  was  to  write 
a  letter  to  the  New  York  office. 

"W.B.  23645,"  he  wrote,  "the  vetinnary 
has  seen  the  cat,  and  its  diseased  all  right, 
he  says  so.  no  sine  of  Mrs.  Warman  yet  but 
ile  keep  the  cat  in  the  offis  if  you  say  so  as  long 
as  i  cann  stand  it.  but  how  cann  i  feed  a 
diseased  cat.  i  newer  fed  a  diseased  cat 
yet.  what  do  you  feed  cats  lik  that." 

The  next  morning  when  Flannery  reached 
the  office  he  opened  the  front  door,  and 
immediately  closed  it  with  a  bang  and  locked 
it.  Timmy  was  late,  as  usual.  Flannery 
stood  a  minute  looking  at  the  door,  and  then 
he  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  curb  to  wait 
for  Timmy.  The  boy  came  along  after  a 
while,  indolently  as  usual,  but  when  he  saw 
Flannery  he  quickened  his  pace  a  little. 

"  What 's  th'  matter  ?"  he  asked.  "  Locked 
out?" 

Flannery  stood  up.  He  did  not  even  say 
good  morning.  He  ran  his  hand  into  his 


18  JUST  LIKE  A  CAT 

pocket  and  pulled  out  the  key.  "Timmy," 
he  said  gently,  almost  lovingly,  "I  have  busi- 
ness that  takes  me  t'  th'  other  side  av  town. 
I  have  th'  confidence  in  ye,  Timmy,  t'  let  ye 
open  up  th'  office.  'T  will  be  good  ixperience 
fer  ye."  He  cast  his  eye  down  the  street, 
where  the  car  line  made  a  turn  around  the 
corner.  The  trolley  wire  was  shaking.  "  Th' 
way  ye  open  up,"  he  said  slowly,  "is  t'  push 
th'  key  into  th'  keyhole.  Push  th'  key  in, 
Timmy,  an'  thin  turrn  it  t'  th'  lift.  Wait!" 
he  called,  as  Titnmy  turned.  "'Tis  impor- 
tant t'  turrn  t'  th'  lift,  not  th'  right.  An'  whin 
ye  have  th'  door  open  " —  the  car  was  round- 
ing the  corner,  and  Flannery  stepped  into  the 
street  —  "whin  ye  have  th'  door  open  —  th' 
door  open" — the  car  was  where  he  could 
touch  it  —  "take  th'  cat  out  behint  th'  office 
an'  bury  it,  an'  if  ye  don't  I  '11  fire  ye  out  av 
yer  job.  Mind  that!" 

The  car  sped  by,  and  Flannery  swung 
aboard.  Timmy  watched  it  until  it  went  out 
of  sight  around  the  next  corner,  and  then  he 


JUST  LIKE  A  CAT  19 

turned  to  the  office  door.  He  pushed  the  key 
in,  and  turned  it  to  the  left. 

When  Flannery  returned  the  cat  was  gone, 
and  so  was  Timmy.  The  grocer  next  door 
handed  Flannery  the  key,  and  Flannery's  face 
grew  red  with  rage.  He  opened  the  door  of 
the  office,  and  for  a  moment  he  was  sure  the 
cat  was  not  gone,  but  it  was.  Flannery  could 
not  see  the  box;  it  was  gone.  He  threw  open 
the  back  door  and  let  the  wind  sweep  through 
the  office,  and  it  blew  a  paper  off  the  desk. 
Flannery  picked  it  up  and  read  it.  It  was 
from  Timmy. 

'Mike  Flannery,  esquire,"  it  said.  "Take 
youre  old  job.  Im  tired  of  the  express  bisi- 
ness.  Too  much  cats  and  missus  Warmans 
in  it.  im  going  to  New  York  to  look  for  a 
decent  job.  I  berried  the  cat  for  you  but  no 
more  for  me.  youres  truly." 

Flannery  smiled.  The  loss  of  Timmy  did 
not  bother  him  so  long  as  the  cat  had  gone 
also.  He  turned  to  the  tasks  of  the  day  with 
a  light  heart. 


20  JUST  LIKE  A  CAT 

The  afternoon  mail  brought  him  a  letter 
from  the  New  York  office.  "Regarding 
W.B.  23645,"  it  said,  "and  in  answer  to  yours 
of  yesterday's  date.  In  our  previous  commu- 
nication we  clearly  requested  you  to  have  a 
veterinary  look  at  the  cat.  We  judge  from 
your  letter  that  you  neglected  to  do  this,  as  the 
veterinary  would  certainly  have  told  you  what 
to  feed  the  cat.  See  the  veterinary  at  once 
and  ask  him  what  to  feed  the  cat.  Then  feed 
the  cat  what  he  tells  you  to  feed  it.  We  pre- 
sume it  is  not  necessary  for  us  to  tell  you  to 
water  the  cat." 

Flannery  grinned.  "An'  ain't  thim  th' 
jokers,  now!"  he  exclaimed.  "'Tis  some 
smart  bye  must  have  his  fun  with  ould  Flan- 
nery! Go  an'  see  th'  veterinary!  An'  ask  him 
what  t' feed  th' cat !  'Good  mornin',  Misther 
Pomeroy.  Do  ye  remimber  th'  dead  cat  ye 
looked  at  yisterday?  'Tis  in  a  bad  way  th' 
mornin',  sor.  'Tis  far  an'  away  deader  than 
it  was  yisterday.  We  had  th'  funeral  this 
mornin'.  What  w'u'd  ye  be  advisin'  me  t' 


JUST  LIKE  A  CAT  21 

feed  it  f  er  a  regular  diet  now  ?'  Oh  yis !  I  '11 
go  t'  th'  veterinary  —  not!" 

He  stared  at  the  letter  frowningly. 

"An*  'tis  not  nicessary  t'  tell  me  t'  water  th' 
cat!"  he  said.  "Oh,  no,  they'll  be  trustin' 
Flannery  t'  water  th'  cat.  Flannery  has 
loads  av  time.  'Tis  no  need  fer  him  t'  spind 
his  time  doin'  th'  ixpriss  business.  'Git  th' 
sprinklin'-can,  Flannery,  an'  water  th'  cat. 
Belike  if  ye  water  it  well  ye  '11  be  havin'  a  fine 
flower-bed  av  long-haired  cats  but  behint  th' 
office.  Water  th'  cat  well,  an'  plant  it  awn 
th'  sunny  side  av  th'  house,  an'  whin  it  sprouts 
transplant  it  t'  th'  shady  side  where  it  can  run 
up  th'  trellis.  'T  will  bloom  hearty  until  cold 
weather,  if  watered  plinty!'  Bechune  thim 
an'  me  'tis  me  opinion  th'  cat  was  kept  too 
long  t'  grow  well  anny  more." 

Mrs.  Warman  was  very  much  surprised 
that  afternoon  to  receive  a  letter  from  the 
express  company.  As  soon  as  she  saw  the 
name  of  the  company  in  the  corner  of  the 
envelope  her  face  hardened.  She  had  an 


22  JUST  LIKE  A  CAT 

intuition  that  this  was  to  be  another  case 
where  the  suffering  public  was  imposed  upon 
by  an  overbearing  corporation,  and  she  did 
not  mean  to  be  the  victim.  She  had  refused 
the  cat.  Fond  as  she  was  of  cats,  she  had 
never  liked  them  dead.  She  was  through 
with  that  cat.  She  tore  open  the  envelope. 
A  woman  never  leaves  an  envelope  unopened. 
The  next  moment  she  was  more  surprised 
than  before. 

"  Dear  Madam,"  said  the  letter.  "  Regard- 
ing a  certain  cat  sent  to  your  address  through 
our  company  by  Hibbert  &  Jones  of  this 
city,  while  advising  you  of  our  entire  freedom 
from  responsibility  in  the  matter,  all  animals 
being  accepted  by  us  at  owner's  risk  only, 
we  beg  to  make  the  following  communi- 
cation: The  cat  is  now  in  storage  at  our 
express  office  in  Westcote,  and  is  sick.  A 
letter  from  our  agent  there  leads  us  to  believe 
that  the  cat  may  not  receive  the  best  of  atten- 
tion at  his  hands.  In  order  that  it  may  be 
properly  fed  and  cared  for  we  would  suggest 


JUST  LIKE  A  CAT  23 

that  you  accept  the  cat  from  our  hands, 
under  protest  if  you  wish,  until  you  can 
arrange  with  Messrs.  Hibbert  &  Jones  as  to 
the  ownership.  In  asking  you  to  take  the 
cat  in  this  way  we  have  no  other  object  in  view 
than  to  stop  the  charges  for  storage  and  care, 
which  are  accumulating,  and  to  make  sure 
that  the  cat  is  receiving  good  attention.  We 
might  say,  however,  that  Hibbert  &  Jones 
assure  us  that  the  cat  is  your  property,  and 
therefore,  until  we  have  assurance  to  the 
contrary,  we  must  look  to  you  for  all  charges 
for  transportation,  storage,  and  care  accruing 
while  the  cat  is  left  with  us.  Yours  very  truly." 
When  she  had  read  the  letter  Mrs.  War- 
man's  emotions  were  extremely  mixed.  She 
felt  an  undying  anger  toward  the  express  com- 
pany; she  felt  an  entirely  different  and 
more  personal  anger  toward  the  firm  of 
Hibbert  &  Jones;  but  above  all  she  felt  a 
great  surprise  regarding  the  cat.  If  ever 
she  had  seen  a  cat  that  she  thought  was  a 
thoroughly  dead  cat  this  was  the  cat.  She 


24  JUST  LIKE  A  CAT 

had  had  many  cats  in  her  day,  and  she 
had  always  thought  she  knew  a  dead  cat 
when  she  saw  one,  and  now  this  dead  cat 
was  alive  —  ailing,  perhaps,  but  alive.  The 
more  she  considered  it,  the  less  likely  it 
seemed  to  her  that  she  could  have  been 
mistaken  about  the  deadness  of  that  cat. 
It  had  been  offered  to  her  twice.  The 
first  time  she  saw  it  she  knew  it  was  dead, 
and  the  second  time  she  saw  it  she  knew 
it  was,  if  anything,  more  dead  than  it  had 
been  the  first  time.  The  conclusion  was 
obvious.  A  cat  had  been  sent  to  her  in  a 
box.  She  had  refused  to  receive  a  dead  cat, 
and  the  expressmen  had  taken  the  box  away 
again.  Now  there  was  a  live,  but  sick, 
cat  in  the  box.  She  had  her  opinion  of 
expressmen,  express  companies,  and  espe- 
cially of  the  firm  of  Hibbert  &  Jones.  This 
full  opinion  she  sent  to  Hibbert  &  Jones 
by  the  next  mail. 

The   next   morning   Flannery   was   feeling 
fine.     He  whistled  as  he  went  to  the  nine- 


JUST  LIKE  A  CAT  25 

twenty  train,  and  whistled  as  he  came  back 
to  the  office  with  his  hand-truck  full  of  pack- 
ages and  the  large  express  envelope  with 
the  red  seals  on  the  back  snugly  tucked  in 
his  inside  pocket,  but  when  he  opened  the 
envelope  and  read  the  first  paper  that  fell  out 
he  stopped  whistling. 

"Agent,  Westcote,"  said  the  letter. 
"Regarding  W.B.  23645,  Hibbert  &  Jones, 
consignor  of  the  cat  you  are  holding  in 
storage,  advises  us  that  the  consignee  claims 
cat  you  have  is  not  the  cat  shipped  by  con- 
signor. Return  cat  by  first  train  to  this 
office.  If  the  cat  is  not  strong  enough  to 
travel  alone  have  veterinary  accompany  it. 
Yrs.  truly,  Interurban  Express  Company, 
per  J." 

At  first  a  grin  spread  over  the  face  of 
Flannery.  "'Not  sthrong  enough  t'  travel 
alone'!"  he  said  with  a  chuckle.  "If  iver 
there  was  a  sthrong  cat  'tis  that  wan  be 
this  time,  an'  't  w'u'd  be  a  waste  av  ixpinse  t' 
hire  a "  Suddenly  his  face  sobered. 


26  JUST  LIKE  A  CAT 

He   glanced   out   of   the   back   door   at   the 
square  mile  of  hummocky  sand  and  clay. 

"  *  Return  cat  be  firrst  trrain  t'  this  office, ' ' 
he  repeated  blankly.  He  left  his  seat  and 
went  to  the  door  and  looked  out.  "Return 
th'  cat,"  he  said,  and  stepped  out  upon 
the  edge  of  the  soft,  new  soil.  It  was  all 
alike  in  its  recently  dug  appearance.  "Th' 
cat,  return  it,"  he  repeated,  taking  steps  this 
way  and  that  way,  with  his  eyes  on  the  clay 
at  his  feet.  He  walked  here  and  there,  but 
one  place  looked  like  the  others.  There  was 
room  for  ten  thousand  cats,  and  one  cat  might 
have  been  buried  in  any  one  of  ten  thou- 
sand places.  Flannery  sighed.  Orders  were 
orders,  and  he  went  back  to  the  office  and 
locked  the  doors.  He  borrowed  a  coal-scoop 
from  the  grocer  next  door  and  went  out  and 
began  to  dig  up  the  clay  and  sand.  He  dug 
steadily  and  grimly.  Never,  perhaps,  in  the 
history  of  the  world  had  a  man  worked  so 
hard  to  dig  up  a  dead  cat.  Even  in  ancient 
Egypt,  where  the  cat  was  a  sacred  animal, 


JUST  LIKE  A  CAT  27 

they  did  not  dig  them  up  when  they  had  them 
planted.  Quite  the  contrary:  it  was  a  crime 
to  dig  them  up;  and  Flannery,  as  he  dug, 
had  a  feeling  that  it  would  be  almost  a 
crime  to  dig  up  this  one.  Never,  perhaps, 
did  a  man  dig  so  hard  to  find  a  thing  he 
really  did  not  care  to  have. 

Flannery  dug  all  that  morning.  At 
lunch-time  he  stopped  digging  —  and  went 
without  his  lunch  —  long  enough  to  deliver 
the  packages  that  had  come  on  the  early 
train.  As  he  passed  the  station  he  saw  a 
crowd  of  boys  playing  hockey  with  an  old 
tomato-can,  and  he  stopped.  When  he 
reached  the  office  he  was  followed  by  six- 
teen boys.  Some  of  them  had  spades,  some 
of  them  had  small  fire-shovels,  some  had 
only  pointed  sticks,  but  all  were  ready  to 
dig.  He  showed  them  where  he  had  already 
dug. 

"Twinty-five  cints  apiece,  annyhow,"  he 
said,  "an'  five  dollars  fer  th'  lucky  wan 
that  finds  it." 


28  JUST  LIKE  A  CAT 

"All    right,"    said    one.     "Now    what    is 
it  we  are  to  dig  for?" 

"'Tis    a    cat,"    said    Flannery,    "a    dead 


wan." 


"Go  on!"  cried  the  boy  sarcastically. 
"What  is  it  we  are  to  dig  for?" 

"I  can  get  you  a  dead  cat,  mister,"  said 
another.  "Our  cat  died." 

"'Twill  not  do,"  said  Flannery.  "'Tis 
a  special  cat  I  'm  wantin'.  'T  is  a  long- 
haired cat,  an'  't  was  dead  a  long  time. 
Ye  can't  mistake  it  whin  ye  come  awn  to  it. 
If  ye  dig  up  a  cat  ye  know  no  wan  w'u'd 
want  t'  have,  that 's  it." 

The  sixteen  boys  dug,  and  Flannery,  in 
desperation,  dug,  but  a  square  mile  is  a 
large  plot  of  ground  to  dig  over.  No  one, 
having  observed  that  cat  on  the  morning 
when  Timmy  planted  it,  would  have  believed 
it  could  be  put  in  any  place  where  it  could 
not  be  instantly  found  again.  It  had 
seemed  like  a  cat  that  would  advertise  itself. 
But  that  is  just  like  a  cat;  it  is  always  around 


JUST  LIKE  A  CAT  29 

when  it  is  n't  needed,  and  when  it  is  needed 
it  can't  be  found.  Before  the  afternoon 
was  half  over  the  boys  had  tired  of  digging 
for  a  dead  cat  and  had  gone  away,  but 
Flannery  kept  at  it  until  the  sun  went  down. 
Then  he  looked  to  see  how  much  of  the 
plot  was  left  to  dig  up.  It  was  nearly  all 
left.  As  he  washed  his  hands  before  going 
to  his  boarding-house  a  messenger-boy 
handed  him  a  telegram.  Flannery  tore  it 
open  with  misgivings. 

"Cat  has  not  arrived.  Must  come  on 
night  train.  Can  accept  no  excuse,"  it  read. 

Flannery  folded  the  telegram  carefully  and 
put  it  in  his  hip  pocket.  He  washed  his 
hands  with  more  deliberate  care  than  he  had 
ever  spent  on  them.  He  adjusted  his  coat 
most  carefully  on  his  back,  and  then  walked 
with  dignity  to  his  boarding-house.  He 
knew  what  would  happen.  There  would  be 
an  inspector  out  from  the  head  office  in  the 
morning.  Flannery  would  probably  have  to 
look  for  a  new  job. 


30  JUST  LIKE  A  CAT 

In  the  morning  he  was  up  early,  but  he 
was  still  dignified.  He  did  not  put  on  his 
uniform,  but  wore  his  holiday  clothes,  with 
the  black  tie  with  the  red  dots.  An  inspec- 
tor is  a  hard  man  to  face,  but  a  man  in  his 
best  clothes  has  more  of  a  show  against 
him.  Flannery  came  to  the  office  the  back 
way;  there  was  a  possibility  of  the  inspec- 
tor's being  already  at  the  front  door.  As 
he  crossed  the  filled-in  meadows  he  poked 
unhopefully  at  the  soil  here  and  there,  but 
nothing  came  of  it.  But  suddenly  his  eyes 
lighted  on  a  figure  that  he  knew,  just  turn- 
ing out  of  the  alley  three  buildings  from  the 
office.  It  was  Timmy! 

Flannery  had  no  chance  at  all.  He  ran, 
but  how  can  a  man  run  in  his  best  clothes 
across  soft,  new  soil  when  he  is  getting  a  bit 
too  stout?  And  Timmy  had  seen  him  first. 
When  Flannery  reached  the  corner  of 
the  alley  Timmy  was  gone,  and  with  a  sigh 
that  was  partly  regret  and  partly  breathless- 
ness  from  his  run  Flannery  turned  into  the 


JUST  LIKE  A  CAT  31 

main  street.  There  was  the  inspector,  sure 
enough,  standing  on  the  curb.  Flannery 
had  lost  some  of  his  dignity,  but  he  made 
up  for  it  in  anger.  He  more  than  made  up 
for  it  in  the  heat  he  had  run  himself  into. 
He  was  red  in  the  face.  He  met  the  inspec- 
tor with  a  glare  of  anger. 

"There  be  th'  key,  if  'tis  that  ye' re 
wantin',  an'  ye  may  take  it  an'  welcome, 
fer  no  more  will  I  be  ixpriss  agint  fer  a 
company  that  sinds  long-haired  cats  dead 
in  a  box  an'  orders  me  t'  kape  thim  throo 
th'  hot  weather  fer  a  fireside  companion 
an'  ready  riferince  av  perfumery.  How  t' 
feed  an'  water  dead  cats  av  th'  long-haired 
kind  I  may  not  know,  an'  how  t'  live  with 
dead  cats  I  may  not  know,  but  whin  t'  bury 
dead  cats  I  do  know,  an'  there  be  plinty 
av  other  jobs  where  a  man  is  not  ordered  t'  dig 
up  forty-siven  acres  t'  find  a  cat  that  was 
buried  none  too  soon  at  that!" 

"What's  that?"  said  the  inspector.  "Is 
that  cat  dead  ?" 


32  JUST  LIKE  A  CAT 

"An'  what  have  I  been  tellin'  th'  dudes 
in  th'  head  office  all  th'  while?"  asked 
Flannery  with  asperity.  "What  but  that 
th'  late  deceased  dead  cat  was  defunct  an' 
no  more  ?  An'  thim  insultin'  an  honest  man 
with  their  'Have  ye  stholen  th'  cat  out  av 
th'  box,  Flannery,  an'  put  in  an  inferior 
short-haired  cat  ?'  I  want  no  more  av  thim ! 
Here  's  the  key.  Good  day  t'  ye!" 

"Hold  on,"  said  the  inspector,  putting 
his  hand  on  Flannery's  arm.  "You  don't 
go  yet.  I  '11  have  a  look  at  your  cash  and 
your  accounts  first.  What  you  say  about 
that  cat  may  be  true  enough,  but  we  have 
got  to  have  proof  of  it.  That  was  a  valu- 
able cat,  that  was.  It  was  an  Angora 
cat,  a  real  Angora  cat.  You  've  got  to 
produce  that  cat  before  we  are  through 
with  you." 

"Projuce  th'  cat!"  said  Flannery  angrily. 
"Th'  cat  is  safe  an'  sound  in  th'  back  lot. 
I  presint  ye  with  th'  lot.  If  't  is  not  enough 
fer  ye,  go  awn  an'  do  th'  dirthy  worrk  ye 


JUST  LIKE  A  CAT  33 

have  t'  do  awn  me.  I  '11  dig  no  more  fer 
th'  cat." 

The  inspector  unlocked  the  door  and 
entered  the  office.  It  was  hot  with  the 
close  heat  of  a  room  that  has  been  locked 
up  overnight.  Just  inside  the  door  the 
inspector  stopped  and  sniffed  suspiciously. 
No  express  office  should  have  smelled  as 
that  one  smelled. 

"Wan  minute!"  cried  Flannery,  pulling 
away  from  the  inspector's  grasp.  "Wan 
minute!  I  have  a  hint  there  be  a  long- 
haired cat  near  by.  Wance  ye  have  been 
near  wan  av  thim  ye  can  niver  mistake 
thim  Angora  cats.  I  w'u'd  know  th'  sym- 
bol av  thim  with  me  eyes  shut.  'T  is  a 
signal  ye  c'u'd  tell  in  th'  darrk." 

He  hurried  to  the  back  door.  The  cat 
was  there,  all  right.  A  little  deader  than 
it  had  been,  perhaps,  but  it  was  there  on  the 
step,  long  hair  and  all. 

"Hurroo!"  shouted  Flannery.  "An5  me 
thinkin'  I  w'u'd  niver  see  it  again!  Can  ye 


34  JUST  LIKE  A   CAT 

smell  th'  proof,  Misther  Inspictor  ?  'T  is 
good  sthrong  proof  fer  ye!  An'  I  sh'u'd 
have  knowed  it  all  th'  while.  Angora  cats 
I  know  not  be  th'  spicial  species,  an'  th' 
long-haired  breed  av  cats  is  not  wan  I  have 
associated  with  much,  an'  cats  so  dang  dead 
as  this  wan  I  do  not  kape  close  in  touch 
with,  ginerally,  but  all  cats  have  a  grrand 
resimblance  t'  cats.  Look  at  this  wan,  now. 
'T  is  just  like  a  cat.  It  kem  back." 


THE  THREE  HUNDRED 


35 


II 

THE  THREE  HUNDRED 

There  was  a  certain  big  sort  of  master- 
fulness about  the  president  of  the  Inter- 
urban  Express  Company  that  came  partly 
from  his  natural  force  of  character  and 
partly  from  the  position  he  occupied  as 
head  of  the  company,  and  when  he  said 
a  thing  must  be  done  he  meant  it.  In 
his  own  limited  field  he  was  a  bigger  man 
than  the  President  of  the  United  States, 
for  he  was  not  only  the  chief  executive  of 
the  Interurban  Express  Company,  but  he 
made  its  laws  as  well.  He  could  issue  gen- 
eral orders  turning  the  whole  operation  of 
the  road  other  end  to  as  easily  as  a  national 
executive  could  order  the  use  of,  let  us  say, 
a  simplified  form  of  spelling  in  a  few  depart- 
ments of  the  Government.  He  sat  in  the 

87 


38  THE   THREE  HUNDRED 

head  office  of  the  company  at  Franklin 
and  said  "Let  this  be  done,"  and,  in  every 
suburban  town  where  the  Interurban  had 
offices,  that  thing  was  done,  under  pain  of 
dismissal  from  the  service  of  the  company. 
Even  Flannery,  who  was  born  rebellious, 
would  scratch  his  red  hair  in  the  West- 
cote  office  and  grumble  and  then  follow 
orders. 

Old  Simon  Gratz  came  into  the  presi- 
dent's office  one  morning  and  sat  himself 
into  a  vacant  chair  with  a  grunt  of  disappro- 
bation, the  same  grunt  of  disapprobation 
that  had  been  like  saw-filing  to  the  nerves 
of  the  president  for  many  years,  and  the 
president  immediately  prepared  to  con- 
tradict him,  regardless  of  what  it  might 
be  that  Simon  Gratz  disapproved  of.  It 
happened  to  be  the  simplified  spelling.  He 
waved  the  morning  paper  at  the  president 
and  wanted  to  know  what  he  thought  of 
this  outrageous  thing  of  chopping  off  the 
tails  of  good  old  English  words  with  an 


THE  THREE   HUNDRED         39 

official  carving-knife,  ruining  a  language 
that  had  been  fought  and  bled  for  at  Lex- 
ington, and  making  it  look  like  a  dialect 
story,  or  a  woman  with  two  front  teeth  out. 

It  rather  strained  the  president  some- 
times to  think  of  a  sound  train  of  argu- 
ment against  Simon  Gratz  at  a  moment's 
notice.  Sometimes  he  had  to  abandon  the 
beliefs  of  a  lifetime  in  order  to  take  the 
other  side  of  a  proposition  that  Simon  Gratz 
announced  unexpectedly,  and  it  was  still 
harder  to  get  up  an  enthusiasm  for  one 
side  of  a  thing  of  which  he  had  never  heard, 
as  he  sometimes  had  to  do;  but  he  was 
ready  to  meet  Simon  Gratz  on  either  side  of 
the  simplified  spelling  matter,  for  he  had 
read  about  it  himself  in  the  morning 
paper.  It  had  seemed  a  rather  unimpor- 
tant matter  until  Simon  Gratz  mentioned  it, 
but  now  it  immediately  became  a  thing 
of  the  most  intimate  concern. 

"What  do  I  think?"  he  asked.  "I  think 
it  is  the  grandest  thing  —  the  most  sensible 


40          THE  THREE  HUNDRED 

thing  —  the  greatest  step  forward  that  has 
been  taken  for  centuries.  That  is  what 
I  think.  It  is  a  revolution!  That  is  what 
I  think,  Mr.  Gratz." 

He  swung  around  in  his  chair  and  struck 
his  desk  with  his  fist  to  emphasize  his  words. 
Mr.  Gratz,  whose  opinions  were  the  more 
obnoxious  because  he  was  a  stockholder 
of  the  company,  sniffed.  The  way  he  had 
of  sniffing  was  like  a  red  rag  to  a  bull,  and 
he  meant  it  as  such.  The  president 
accepted  it  in  the  spirit  in  which  it  was 
meant.  He  said:  "Bah!" 

"I  will  tell  you  what  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Gratz, 
pushing  his  chin  up  at  the  president.  "It 
is  the  most  idiotic " 

"Don't  tell  me!"  cried  Mr.  Smalley.  "I 
don't  want  you  to  tell  me  anything!  What 
do  you  know  about  the  English  language, 
anyhow?  'Gratz!'  That  is  a  pretty  name 
for  a  man  who  pretends  to  have  a  right  to 
say  how  the  English  language  shall  be 
spelled!  Don't  I  know  your  history,  Mr. 


J 


..^ 


THE  THREE  HUNDRED          41 

Gratz  ?  Don't  I  know  you  had  your  name 
changed  from  Gratzensteinburgher  ?  And 
you  pretend  to  be  worried  because  our 
President  and  the  most  talented  men  in 
the  country  want  to  drop  a  few  useless 
letters  out  of  a  measly  three  hundred  words! 
I  tell  you  these  changes  in  spelling  should 
have  been  made  long  ago.  Long  ago.  This 
is  the  business  man's  age,  Mr.  Gratz-and-the- 
rest-of-it.  Yes,  sir!  And  you,  as  a  business 
man,  should  be  proud  of  this  concession 
made  by  our  most  noted  scholars  to  the  needs 
of  the  business  man." 

"Look  at  'em!"  sneered  Mr.  Gratz,  pat- 
ting the  list  of  three  hundred  revised  words 
with  his  finger,  and  shoving  the  news- 
paper under  Mr.  Smalley's  nose.  "Poor 
bob-tailed,  one-eyed  mongrels!  Progress!  It 

is  anarchy  —  impudence Look  at  this 

—  't-h-r-u!'  What  kind  of  a  word  is  that? 
'T-h-o!'  What  kind  of  a  thing  is  that? 
What  in  the  world  is  a  's-i-t-h-e/  I  would 
like  to  know?" 


42          THE  THREE  HUNDRED 

Mr.  Smalley  had  not  been  sufficiently 
interested  in  the  matter  of  new  spelling 
to  save  his  morning  paper.  He  had  not 
even  read  through  the  list  of  three  hun- 
dred words.  But  he  was  interested  now. 
The  new  spelling  had  become  the  thing 
most  dear  to  his  heart,  and  he  pulled  the 
paper  from  Mr.  Gratz's  hand  and  slapped 
the  list  of  words  warmly. 

"Progress!  Yes,  progress!  That  is  the  word. 
And  economy!"  he  cried.  "That  is  the  true 
American  spirit!  That  is  what  appeals  to 
the  man  who  is  not  a  fossil!"  This  was 
a  delicate  compliment  to  Mr.  Gratz,  but 
Mr.  Gratz  was  so  used  to  receiving  compli- 
ments when  Mr.  Smalley  was  talking  to  him 
that  he  did  not  blush  with  pleasure.  He 
merely  got  red  in  the  face.  "Think  of  the 
advantage  of  saving  one  letter  in  every 
word  that  is  written  in  every  business  office 
in  America  ?"  continued  Mr.  Smalley  excitedly. 
"The  ink  saved  by  this  company  alone 
by  dropping  those  letters  will  amount  to 


THE  THREE  HUNDRED          43 

a  thousand  dollars  a  year.  And  in  the 
whole  correspondence  of  the  nation  it  will 
amount  to  millions!  Millions  of  dollars, 
in  ink  alone,  to  say  nothing  of  the  time 
saved!"  He  got  out  of  his  chair  and  began 
to  walk  up  and  down  the  office,  waving 
his  arms.  It  helped  him  to  get  hot,  and 
he  liked  to  get  hot  when  Mr.  Gratz  called. 
It  was  the  only  time  he  indulged  himself. 
So  he  always  got  as  hot  as  he  could  while 
he  had  the  chance. 

"Yes,  sir!"  he  shouted,  while  Mr.  Gratz 
sat  shrunken  down  into  his  chair  and 
watched  him  with  a  teasing  smile.  "And 
I  will  tell  you  something  more.  The  policy 
of  this  company  is  to  be  economical.  Yes, 
sir!  And  this  company  is  going  to  adopt 
the  simplified  spelling!  Going  to  adopt  it 
right  now!  In  spite  of  all  the  old-fogyism 
in  the  world! --Miss  Merrill!" 

The  office-door  opened,  and  a  pompadour, 
followed  by  a  demure  young  lady,  entered 
the  room.  She  slipped  quietly  into  a  chair 


44          THE  THREE  HUNDRED 

beside  the  president's  desk  and  laid  her 
copy-book  on  the  slide  of  the  desk  and 
waited  while  her  employer  arranged  the 
words  in  his  mind.  Her  pencil  was  deli- 
cately poised  above  the  ruled  page.  While 
she  waited  she  hit  the  front  of  her  pom- 
padour a  few  improving  slaps  with  her 
unengaged  hand  and  pulled  out  the  slack 
of  her  waist  front. 

"Take  this,"  said  Mr.  Smalley  sharply. 
"General  Order  Number  (you  can  supply 
the  number,  Miss  Merrill) .  To  all  employees 
of  the  Interurban  Express  Company:  On 
and  after  this  date  all  employees  of  this 
company  will  use,  in  their  correspondence 
and  in  all  other  official  business,  the  follow- 
ing list  of  three  hundred  words.  By  order 
of  the  president.  Read  what  you  have 
there." 

Miss  Merrill  ran  one  hand  around  her  belt 
—  she  was  the  kind  of  girl  that  can  make  her 
toilet  and  do  business  at  the  same  time  — 
and  read: 


yi 

4 ' 


^mJ 


Jc 


' 


"  Her  pencil  was  delicately  poised  above  the 
ruled  page  " 


THE  THREE  HUNDRED          45 

"  General  Order  Number  Seven  Hun- 
dred and  Nineteen.  To  all  employees  of 
the  Interurban  Express  Company:  On  and 
after  this  date  all  employees  of  this  com- 
pany will  use,  in  their  correspondence  and 
in  all  other  official  business,  the  following 
list  of  three  hundred  words.  By  order  of 
the  president." 

"Yes,"  said  the  president,  tearing  a  strip 
from  Mr.  Gratz's  newspaper  that  he  held 
in  his  hand.  "Here  is  the  list  of  words. 
I  want  the  whole  thing  mimeographed,  and 
I  want  you  to  see  that  a  copy  gets  into  the 
hands  of  every  man  and  woman  in  our 
employ:  all  the  offices,  here  and  on  the 
road.  Understand  ?" 

'Yes,  sir,"  she  answered,  and  then  she 
arose,  fixed  her  neck  scarf,  and  went  out. 
Mr.  Smalley  took  his  seat  at  his  desk  and 
began  arranging  his  papers,  humming 
cheerfully. 

Mr.  Gratz  arose  and  stalked  silently  out 
of  the  office.  But  when  the  door  was  closed 


46          THE  THREE  HUNDRED 

behind  him  he  smiled.  One  of  the  members 
of  the  "Simplified  Spelling  Board"  was 
his  personal  friend.  Mr.  Gratz  had  pre- 
vailed upon  Mr.  Smalley  to  adopt  the  new 
spelling,  and  he  had  done  so  by  using  the 
only  means  he  could  use  with  hope  of  success. 

The  next  day  Mike  Flannery,  the 
Westcote  agent  of  the  express  company, 
was  sitting  at  his  desk  in  the  express  office, 
carefully  spelling  out  a  letter  to  Mary 
O'Donnell,  on  whom  his  affections  were 
firmly  fixed,  when  he  heard  the  train  from 
Franklin  whistle.  He  had  time  to  read 
what  he  had  written  before  he  went  to  meet 
the  train,  and  he  glanced  over  the  letter 
hastily. 

"Dearst  Mary  Odonil,"  it  said,  "reply 
in  to  yourse  i  would  say  i  ment  no  harm 
when  i  kised  you  last  nite  it  did  not  mene 
you  was  no  lady  but  my  feelins  got  to  mutch 
for  me  i  love  you  so  how  was  i  to  no  you 
wood  not  like  it  when  i  had  never  tried  it 
on  befor  if  you  dont  like  it  i  will  let  up  on 


THE  THREE  HUNDRED          47 

that  after  this  but  it  was  the  best  kiss  i  ever 

had "  He  stopped  to  scratch  out  the 

part  about  its  being  the  best  kiss  he  had 
ever  had,  for  that  seemed,  on  second  thought, 
not  the  best  thing  to  say,  and  then,  as  lovers 
so  often  do,  he  tore  the  whole  letter  to  bits, 
and  hurried  to  meet  the  train. 

Flannery  came  back  with  a  few  pack- 
ages and  a  couple  of  the  long  official  envelopes. 
He  dumped  the  packages  on  his  counter  and 
tore  open  the  first  of  the  envelopes.  It 
was  a  mimeograph  circular  and  had  that 
benzine  odor  that  Flannery  had  come  to 
associate  with  trouble,  for  it  meant  a  new 
rule  that  he  must  follow,  or  a  change  of 
rates  that  he  must  memorize,  under  penalty 
of  dismissal.  All  orders  were  given  under 
penalty  of  dismissal,  and  Flannery  had  so  many 
rules  and  regulations  under  his  red  hair 
that  each  day  he  wondered  whether  he  would 
still  be  the  Westcote  agent  at  the  end  of 
the  next. 

As  he  read  his  forehead  wrinkled. 


48          THE  THREE  HUNDRED 

;'  'Gineral  Order  Number  Sivin  Hundred 
an'  noineteen,"  he  read  slowly.  "And  is 
it  possible  'tis  only  th9  sivin  hundred  an' 
noineteenth  of  thim  I  have  been  gettin' ? 
I  w'u'd  have  said  't  was  th'  forty-sivinth 
thousand  gineral  order  I  have  had  t'  learn 
and  memorize.  Wheniver  th'  prisidint,  or 
th'  vice-prisidint,  or  th'  manager,  or  th' 
janitor,  or  th'  office-boy  at  th'  head  office 
has  nawthin'  else  t'  do  they  be  thinkin'  up 
a  new  gineral  order  t'  sind  t'  Flannery. 
'What's  th'  news  of  th'  day?'  says  th' 
prisidint.  'Nawthin'  doin','  says  th'  jani- 
tor. 'Then  wake  up  and  sind  Flannery  a 
gineral  order  t'  learn  th'  Declaration  av 
Indepindince  by  hearrt,'  says  th'  prisidint. 
'Mebby  he  do  be  gittin'  lazy!'  'And  shall  I 
add  on  th'  Constitution  av  th'  United  States  ?' 
says  th'  janitor.  'Sure!'  says  th'  prisidint, 
"twill  do  Flannery  no  harm  t'  be  busy." 

He  held  the  paper  out  at  arm's  length  and 
shook  his  head  at  it,  and  then  slapped  it 
down  on  the  counter  and  gave  it  his  attention. 


THE  THREE  HUNDRED          49 

"'To  all  imployees  av  th'  Interurban 
Ixpriss  Company,"  he  read.  "On  an' 
after  this  date  all  imployees  av  this  com- 
pany will  use,  in  their  correspondince,  and 
in  all  other  official  business,  the  follyin' 
list  av  free  hunderd  words.  By  order  of 
th'  prisidint.'  Sure!"  he  said.  "'Under 
penalty  av  dismissal  from  th'  service  av  th' 
company,'  as  ye  might  be  sayin' !" 

He  turned  to  the  list  of  three  hundred  words 
and  began  to  read  it.  As  he  passed  down 
the  list  the  frown  on  his  brow  deepened. 
At  "anapest"  it  was  a  noticeable  frown, 
at  "apothem"  it  became  very  pronounced, 
and  at  "dieresis"  his  shaggy  red  brows 
nearly  covered  his  eyes,  he  was  frowning 
so  hard. 

"I  wonder  what  th'  Interurban  Ixpriss 
Company  w'u'd  loike  me  t'  be  writin'  thim 
on  th'  subject  av  'ecumenical'?"  he  said. 
"Mebby  there  be  some  of  these  here  'edile' 
and  'egis'  things  comin'  by  ixpriss,  and 
't  will  be  a  foine  thing  t'  know  how  t'  spell 


50          THE  THREE  HUNDRED 

thim  whin  th'  cou-sign-y  puts  in  a  claim 
fer  damages,  but  if  th'  company  is  goin' 
t'  carry  many  'eponyms'  and  '  esophaguses' 
Mike  Flannery  will  be  lookin'  for  another 
job.  —  And  w'u'd  you  look  at  this  wan ! 
'Paleography!'  Thim  be  nice  words  t'  order 
th'  agints  av  th'  ixpriss  company  t'  be 
usin'!" 

He  pulled  at  a  lock  of  his  hair  thoughtfully. 

"I  wonder,  now,"  he  said,  "do  they  want 
Mike  Flannery  t'  learn  all  thim  words  by 
hearrt,  and  use  thim  all.  Should  I  be  usin' 
thim  all  in  one  letter,  or  distribute  thim 
throughout  th'  correspondince,  or  what  ?  'T  is 
a  grand  lot  of  worrds  if  I  only  knew  what 
anny  of  thim  meant,  but  't  will  be  hard  t' 
find  a  subject  t'  write  on  t'  run  in  this  word  of 
'homonym.'  There  has  not  been  one  of  thim 
about  th'  office  since  Mike  Flannery  has 
been  here." 

But  his  duty  was  plain,  and  he  took  his 
varnish  pot  and  pasted  the  list  on  the  wall 
beside  his  desk  where  he  could  refer  to  it 


THE  THREE  HUNDRED          51 

instantly,  and  then  he  slid  on  to  his  high 
stool  to  write  the  acknowledgment  of  the 
receipt  of  the  list. 

"Interurban  Express  Co.,  Franklin.  Gen- 
telmen,"  he  wrote,  "I  receved  the  genral 
order  719  and  will  oba  it  but  I  will  have  to 
practise  v.  and  n.  awhile  first,  some  of 
the  words  dont  come  natural  to  me  off  hand 
like  polyp  and  estivate.  what  is  the  rate 
on  these  if  any  comes  exprest.  whats  a 
etiology,  pleas  advice  me  am  I  to  use  all 
these  words  or  only  sum.  Mike  Flannery." 

He  sealed  this  with  the  feeling  that  he  had 
done  well  indeed  for  a  first  time.  He  had 
worked  in  "practise  v.  and  n."  and  "exprest," 
and,  if  the  head  office  should  complain 
that  he  had  not  used  enough  of  the  words 
in  the  list,  he  could  point  to  "polyp"  and 
"estivate"  and  "etiology."  It  was  slow 
work,  for  he  had  to  look  up  each  word  he 
used  before  writing  it,  to  see  whether  it  was 
on  the  list  or  not,  but  generally  it  was  not, 
and  that  gave  him  full  liberty  to  spell  it  in 


52          THE  THREE  HUNDRED 

any  of  the  three  or  four  simplified  ways 
he  was  used  to  employing. 

Then  he  turned  to  his  letter  to  Mary 
O'Donnell.  His  buoyancy  was  somewhat 
lessened  in  this  second  attempt  by  the  neces- 
sity of  looking  up  each  word  as  he  used 
it,  and  he  was  working  his  way  slowly,  and 
had  just  told  her  he  was  sorry  he  had  "kist" 
her  ("kist"  was  in  the  three  hundred), 
and  that  it  had  been  because  he  had  "fagot" 
himself  ("fagot"  was  in  the  list  also),  when 
a  man  entered  the  office  and  laid  a  pack- 
age on  the  counter. 

Flannery  slid  from  his  stool  and  went  to 
the  counter.  The  man  was  Mr.  Warold 
of  the  Westcote  Tag  Company,  and  the 
package  was  a  bundle  of  tags  that  he  wished 
to  send  by  express.  They  were  properly 
done  up,  for  Mr.  Warold  sent  many  packages 
by  express.  It  was  addressed  to  the  "Phoenix 
Sulphur  Company,  Armourville,  Pa."  It 
was  marked  "Collect"  and  "Keep  Dry." 
It  was  a  nice  package,  done  up  in  a  mas- 


THE  THREE  HUNDRED          53 

terly  manner,  and  the  tags  were  to  fill  a  rush 
order  from  the  sulphur  company. 

Flannery  pulled  the  package  across  the 
counter,  and  was  about  to  drop  it  on  the 
scales  when  the  "Collect"  caught  his  eye, 
and  he  held  out  his  hand  to  Mr.  Warold. 

"Have  ye  brung  th'  receipt-book  with  ye?" 
he  asked. 

Mr.  Warold  felt  in  his  coat-pocket.  He 
had  forgotten  to  bring  the  receipt  book, 
and  Flannery  drew  a  pad  of  blank  receipts 
toward  himself,  and  dipped  a  pen  into  the 
ink.  Then  he  looked  at  the  address. 

"'Pho-e-nix,'"  he  read  slowly.  "That  do 
be  a  queer  sort  av  a  worrd,  Mr.  Warold. 
'Pho-e-nix!'  Is  it  a  man's  name,  I  dunno?" 

"Feenix,"  pronounced  Mr.  Warold, 
grinning. 

Flannery  was  writing  carefully  with  his 
tongue  clasped  firmly  between  his  teeth, 
but  he  stopped  and  looked  up. 

"  'T  is  an  odd  way  t'  spell  a  worrd  av 
that  same  pronownciation,"  he  said,  and 


54          THE  THREE  HUNDRED 

then,  suddenly,  he  laid  down  his  pen  and 
turned  to  the  list  of  three  hundred  words 
that  was  pasted  beside  his  desk. 

"Oh,  ho!"  he  exclaimed,  when  he  had 
run  his  finger  down  the  list,  and  then  he 
ran  it  still  farther  and  said  it  again,  and 
more  vigorously,  and  turned  back  to  Mr. 
Warold.  He  shook  his  head  and  pushed 
the  package  across  to  Mr.  Warold. 

"Tek  it  back  home,  Mr.  Warold,"  he 
said,  "and  change  th'  spellin'  of  th'  worrds 
on  th'  address  av  it.  'T  is  agin  th'  rules  av 
th'  ixpriss  company  as  it  is.  There  be  no 
'o'  in  th'  feenix  av  th'  Interurban  Ixpriss 
Company.  P-h-e-n-i-x  is  th'  improved  and 
official  spellin'  av  th'  worrd,  and  th'  rules  av 
th'  company  is  agin  lettin'  any  feenixes  with 
an  'o'  in  thim  proceed  into  th'  official  busi- 
ness av  th'  company.  And  th'  same  of  that 
'Sulphur'  worrd.  It  has  been  improved  and 
fixed  up  accordin'  to  gineral  order  number 
sivin  hunderd  and  noineteen,  and  th'  way 
t'  spell  it  is  '  S-u-1-f-u-r/  and  no  other  way 


THE  THREE  HUNDRED          55 

goes  across  th'  counter  av  th'  ixpriss  com- 
pany whilst  Mike  Flannery  runs  it.  And 
th'  ixpriss  company  will  have  none  of  your 
'Armourville,'  Mr.  Warold.  There  be  no 
*u'  in  th'  worrd  as  'tis  simplified  by  th' 
order  av  th'  prisidint  av  th'  Interurban." 

Mr.  Warold  looked  at  the  package  and 
then  at  Flannery,  and  gasped.  He  was 
slow  to  anger,  and  slow  in  all  ways,  and 
it  took  him  fully  two  minutes  to  let  Flannery's 
meaning  trickle  into  his  brain.  Then  he 
pushed  the  package  across  to  Flannery  again 
and  laughed. 

"That  is  all  right,"  he  said.  "I  read  all 
about  the  simplified  spelling  in  the  papers, 
and  if  your  company  wants  to  adopt  it,  it 
is  none  of  my  business,  but  this  has  nothing 
to  do  with  that.  This  is  the  name  of  a 
company,  and  the  name  of  a  town,  and 
companies  and  towns  have  a  right  to  spell 
their  names  as  they  choose.  That  —  why, 
everybody  knows  that!" 

"Sure    they    have    tb5    right,"    admitted 


56          THE  THREE  HUNDRED 

Flannery  pleasantly,  but  pushing  the  pack- 
age slowly  toward  Mr.  Warold;  "sure  they 
have!  But  not  in  th'  ixpriss  office  av  th' 
Interurban.  'T  is  agin  th'  rules  t'  spell 
any  feenixes  with  an  'o'  in  th'  ixpriss  office, 
or  any  sulphurs  with  a  *ph,'  or  any  armours 
with  a  'u.'  Thim  spellin's  and  two  hunderd 
an'  ninety-sivin  more  are  agin  th'  rules,  and 
can't  go.  Packages  that  has  thim  on  can't 
go.  Nawthin'  that  has  thim  in  thim  or  on 
thim  or  about  thim  can't  go.  Gineral  order 
number  sivin " 

"Look  here,"  said  Mr.  Warold  slowly. 
"I  tell  you,  Flannery,  that  those  words  are 
the  names  of  a  company " 

"An'  I  tell  ye,"  said  Flannery,  holding 
the  package  away  from  him  with  a  firm 
hand,  "that  rules  is  rules,  and  gineral  orders 
is  worse  than  rules,  an'  thim  spellin's  can't 

go-" 

Mr.    Warold   flushed.     He   put   his    hand 

opposite  to  Flannery's  hand  on  the  pack- 
age and  pushed  with  an  equal  firmness. 


THE  THREE  HUNDRED          57 

"I  offer  this  package  for  shipment,"  he 
said  with  a  trace  of  anger  beginning  to 
show  in  his  voice.  "I  offer  it  to  you  just 
as  it  is;  spelled  as  it  is;  and  without  change 
or  anything  else.  This  express  company 
is  a  common  carrier,  under  the  Interstate 
Commerce  Law,  and  it  cannot  refuse  to  take 
this  package,  spelling  or  no  spelling.  That 
is  the  law!" 

"I  have  no  quarrel  with  th'  intercommerce 
state  law,  Mr.  Warold,  sir,"  said  Flannery 
with  dignity,  "and  'tis  none  of  my  busi- 
ness, sir.  But  th'  spellin'  of  th'  English 
language  is,  for  't  is  my  duty  by  gineral 
order  number  sivin  hunderd  and  noine- 
teen  t'  spell  three  hundred  worrds  with  th' 
proper  simplification,  and  spell  thim  I  will, 
and  so  will  all  that  does  business  with  Mike 
Flannery  from  sivin  A.M.  till  nine  P.M. 
Worrds  that  is  not  in  th'  three  hunderd  ye 
may  spell  as  ye  please,  Mr.  Warold,  for 
there  be  no  rule  agin  it,  and  in  conversation 
or  correspondince  with  Mike  Flannery, 


58          THE  THREE  HUNDRED 

before  th'  hour  av  sivin  and  after  th'  hour 
av  nine,  ye  may  spell  as  ye  please,  and  I 
will  do  th'  same,  for  thin  I  am  off  duty; 
but  durin'  th'  office  hours  th'  whole  dang 
list  from  'abridgment'  t'  'wrapt'  must  be 
spelled  accordin'  t'  orders.  Yis,  sir,  'polyp' 
and  'dactyl'  and  th'  whole  rist  av  thim. 
So  tek  th'  package  an'  change  th'  address 
like  a  good  man." 

Mr.  Warold  glared  at  Flannery,  and  then 
turned  to  the  door.  He  took  one  or  two 
stiff  strides,  and  then  turned  back.  Anger 
was  well  enough  as  a  luxury,  but  the  Phoenix 
Sulphur  Company  had  telegraphed  for  the 
tags,  and  business  was  a  necessity.  The 
tags  must  go  out  by  the  first  train.  He 
leaned  over  the  counter  and  smiled  at  Flan- 
nery. Flannery  glared  back. 

"See  here,  now,  Flannery,"  he  said  gently, 
"you  don't  want  to  get  into  trouble  with 
the  United  States  Government,  do  you? 
And  maybe  get  yourself  and  your  president 
and  every  employee  and  officer  of  your 


THE  THREE  HUNDRED          59 

company  in  jail  for  no  one  knows  how  long, 
do  you?  Well,  then,  just  telegraph  to  your 
president  and  ask  him  whether  he  makes 
an  exception  in  favour  of  the  old  spelling  of 
names  of  companies,  will  you?  That  will 
do  no  harm.  Tell  him  a  package  is  offered, 
and  tell  him  the  address,  and  let  him  decide." 

Flannery  considered  a  moment  and  then 
took  his  telegraph  pad. 

"  President  Interurban,  Franklin,"  he  wrote, 
"Shall  i  take  pakag  for  Phoenix  Sulphur 
Company,  Armourdale.  Anser  quick.  West- 
cote." 

He  ran  across  the  street  with  it  and  came 
back.  The  head  office  had  a  direct  wire,  and 
the  answer  came  a  minute  after  Flannery 
reached  the  waiting  Mr.  Warold. 

"Westcote.  Give  fuller  particulars.  Name 
consignor.  Contents.  Objection  to  receiv- 
ing. (Signed)  Franklin." 

Flannery  showed  the  message  to  Mr. 
Warold,  and  then  took  up  his  pen  again. 

"President  Interurban,  Franklin,"  he  wrote, 


60          THE  THREE  HUNDRED 

"Consinor  Westcote  tag  company,  tags  in 
it.  o  is  in  phenix  and  ph  in  sulfur  and  u 
in  armordale.  Westcote.' 

The  president  sitting  in  his  private  office, 
received  the  message  and  wrinkled  his  brow 
as  he  read  it.  Telegraphing  does  not  always 
improve  the  legibility  of  a  message.  As 
the  message  reached  the  president  it  read: 

"Consinor  westcote  tag  company  tag  sis 
in  it  oisin  phenix  phin  sulfur  uin  armordale." 

The  president  reached  for  his  pile  of 
various  code-books  and  looked  up  the  strange 
words.  He  found  "phoenix"  in  one  code- 
book  with  its  meaning  given  as  "extremely 
ill,  death  imminent."  "  Oisin"  was  not  given, 
but  the  word  "oisanite"  was,  and  the  mean- 
ing of  that  the  code  stated  to  be  "five  hun- 
dred head  prime  steers."  It  was  enough. 
The  Interurban  did  not  wish  to  accept  the 
transportation  of  five  hundred  extremely  ill 
steers,  whose  death  was  imminent. 

"Westcote,  refuse  consignment  absolutely. 
Write  particulars,"  he  wired. 


THE  THREE  HUNDRED         61 

Flannery  showed  the  telegram  to  Mr. 
Warold,  who  would  have  sworn,  if  swearing 
had  been  his  custom,  but  it  was  not.  He 
took  the  package  of  tags  and  went  back  to 
his  office  and  did  the  tags  up  in  smaller 
bundles  and  sent  them  by  mail  with  a  spe- 
cial delivery  stamp  on  each  lot,  and  charged 
the  cost  to  the  Interurban.  Then  he  wrote 
a  long  and  fervid  letter  to  the  president 
of  the  Interurban,  in  which  he  gave  his 
opinion  of  the  simplified  spelling,  and  par- 
ticularly of  a  man  who  would  interpolate 
it  into  business  by  the  power  of  his  personal 
fiat. 

And  Flannery  wrote  too. 

President  Interurban,  Franklin,"  he  wrote, 
"i  sent  warold  away  with  his  tags  pakag 
as  you  say  to.  he  is  mad  I  gess  he  will  try 
to  make  trubbel.  i  tole  him  we  coud  not 
acsept  pakags  addrest  to  Phoenix  Sulphur 
Company  Armourdale  and  it  made  him  mad. 
no  fait  of  mine,  i  ast  him  to  leve  out  o  out 
of  phoenix  and  to  yous  f  insted  of  ph  in 


62          THE  THREE  HUNDRED 

sulphur  and  too  take  that  u  out  of  armourdale 
agreeble  to  generl  order  numbr  719  and  he 
wont  do  it.  no  fait  of  mine,  i  got  to  spell 
rite  when  the  rules  sa  so.  no  fait  of  mine. 
i  aint  makin  rules  i  sais  to  him.  pres  of  inter- 
urban  is  responssibel  how  we  spel.  i  onnly 
spel  as  he  sais  too.  Flannery." 

The  president  received  the  two  letters 
in  the  same  mail.  He  read  that  of  Mr. 
Warold  first,  and  when  he  came  to  a  threat 
to  sue  the  company,  he  frowned.  This 
was  all  new  to  him.  There  was  nothing 
in  the  letter  about  five  hundred  indisposed 
cattle  of  any  kind.  He  looked  up  Flannery's 
telegrams,  but  they  cast  no  light  on  it.  Then 
he  opened  Flannery's  letter  and  read  it.  He 
got  up  and  began  walking  up  and  down  his 
office,  stopping  now  and  then  to  shake  the 
fist  in  which  he  had  crumpled  Flannery's 
letter.  Then  he  called  for  Miss  Merrill. 

She  came,  carrying  her  notebook  in  one 
hand  and  fixing  a  comb  in  the  back  of  her 
hair  with  the  other. 


THE   THREE   HUNDRED          63 

"Take  this!"  said  the  president  angrily. 
"Flannery,  Westcote  -  -"  He  tramped 
back  and  forth,  trying  to  condense  all  the 
bitterness  that  boiled  in  him  into  telling 
words. 

"You  are  a  fool!"  he  said  at  length,  mean- 
ing Flannery  and  not  Miss  Merrill. 

Then  he  thought  a  while.  Having  said 
that,  there  was  not  much  stronger  that  he 
could  say.  He  had  reached  his  climax  too 
soon. 

"Scratch  that  out,"  he  said,  and  began 
walking  again.  He  looked  at  Flannery 's 
letter  and  scowled. 

Miss  Merrill  waited  patiently.  It  gave 
her  an  opportunity  to  primp. 

"Never  mind,  Miss  Merrill,"  said  the 
president  finally.  "I  will  call  you  later." 
He  was  wondering  whether  he  should  dis- 
charge Flannery,  or  issue  Webster's  Una- 
bridged as  General  Order  Number  720,  or 
what  he  should  do. 

And  Flannery  went  on  with  his  letter  to 


64          THE  THREE  HUNDRED 

Mary  O'Donnell,  for  it  was  a  work  of  sev- 
eral days  with  him.  A  love-letter  was  alone 
enough  to  worry  him,  but,  when  he  had  to 
think  of  things  to  say  and  still  keep  one  eye 
on  the  list  of  three  hundred  words,  his  thoughts 
got  away  from  him  before  he  could  find 
whether  they  had  to  be  put  in  simplified 
words  or  in  the  good  old  go-as-you-please 
English  that  he  usually  wrote. 

He  was  sitting  at  the  desk  when  a  mes- 
senger from  the  head  office  came  in.  The 
messenger  had  been  sent  down  to  Westcote 
by  the  president,  and  had  just  been  across 
to  the  tag  company  to  fix  things  up  with 
Mr.  Warold.  He  had  fixed  them,  and  the 
lever  he  had  used  was  a  paper  he  held  in 
his  hand.  It  had  mollified  Mr.  Warold. 

As  the  messenger  entered,  Flannery  looked 
up  from  his  letter,  and  he  smiled  with  pleasure. 
He  was  glad  to  see  some  one  from  the  head 
office.  He  wanted  information  about  some 
of  the  words  he  was  ordered  to  use.  He 
was  puzzled  about  "stript."  Did  it  mean 


THE  THREE  HUNDRED         65 

"striped"  or  "stripped"?  And  was  "tost 
the  kind  of  toast  you  eat  or  the  kind  you  drink  ? 
And  how  about  that  funny-looking  combin- 
ation of  letters  "thru,"  and  a  dozen  others? 
"I  'm  glad  t'  see  th'  sight  av  ye,"  he  said, 
holding  out  his  hand,  "for  I  do  be  wantin* 
some  help  on  these  three  hunderd  worrds 
th'  prisidint  has  been  simplifyin'  down. 
'T  is  a  tumble  job  they  be,  thim  three  hun- 
derd! Some  av  thim  I  never  will  be  after 
learnin'.  Look  at  this,  now,"  he  said,  put- 
ting his  finger  on  "orthopedic."  "And  this 
wan,"  he  said,  touching  "esophagus."  "Thim 
be  tough  wans !  But  it 's  thankful  I  am 
there  be  but  three  hunderd  av  thim.  There 
w'u'd  be  no  ind  t9  th'  day's  worrk  sh'u'd  th' 
prisidint  take  a  notion  t'  reforrm  th'  whole 
dic-shunnery.  If  he  was  t'  shorten  all  th' 
worrds  in  th'  English  language,  I  w'u'd  have 
a  long  job  av  it,  niver  knowin'  whin  th' 
worrds  was  spelled  right  or  wrong.  They 
be  a  powerful  increase  of  worrk,  thim  three 
hunderd  worrds.  Take  this  wan,  now  — 


66          THE  THREE  HUNDRED 

'thoroly' —  'tis    a   bird,   that   wan   is!     But 
Flannery  will  stick  t'  th'  list!" 

The  messenger  laid  the  paper  he  had 
been  holding  upon  Flannery's  desk. 

"I  will  be  needin'  an  assistant  sh'u'd  th' 
prisidint  promulgate  any  more  worrds  like 
thim,"  said  Flannery;  "and  I  w'u'd  recom- 
mind  he  be  Corbett  or  Sullivan  or  wan  of  th' 
other  sluggers,  for  th'  patrons  av  th'  company 
be  not  all  easy-goin'  like  Mr.  Warold.  But 
progress  is  th'  worrd  of  th'  day,  and  I  stand 
for  shorter  worrds,  no  matter  how  much  extry 
worrk  they  mek.  Th'  prisidint  has  a  great 
head  on  him." 

He  opened  the  paper  on  his  desk  and  read  it. 

"General  Order  Number  Seven  Hundred 
and  Twenty: 

"To  all  employees  of  the  Interurban 
Express  Company:  Cancel  General  Order 
Number  Seven  Hundred  and  Nineteen.  By 
order  of  the  president." 

"As  I  was  sayin',"  said  Flannery,  "th' 
prisidint  has  a  great  head  on  him." 


FLEAS    WILL  BE  FLEAS 


Ill 

FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS 

Mike  Flannery  was  the  star  boarder  at  Mrs. 
Muldoon's,  and  he  deserved  to  be  so  con- 
sidered, for  he  had  boarded  with  Mrs. 
Muldoon  for  years,  and  was  the  agent  of  the 
Interurban  Express  Company  at  Westcote, 
while  Mrs.  Muldoon's  other  boarders  were 
largely  transient. 

"Mike,"  said  Mrs.  Muldoon,  one  noon, 
when  Mike  came  for  his  lunch,  "I  know  th' 
opinion  ye  have  of  Dagos,  and  niver  a-one 
have  I  took  into  me  house,  and  I  think  the 
same  of  thim  meself  —  dirthy  things,  an' 
takin'  the  bread  away  from  th'  honest  Amer- 
can  laborin'  man  —  and  I  would  not  be 
thinkin'  of  takin'  one  t'  board  at  this  day,  but 
would  ye  tell  me  this :  —  is  a  Frinchmin  a 
Dago?" 


70          FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS 

Flannery  raised  his  knife  and  laid  down  the 
law  with  it. 

"Mrs.  Muldoon,  mam,"  he  said,  " there 
be  two  kinds  of  Frinchmin.  There  be  the 
respictible  Frinchmin,  and  there  be  th' 
unrespictible  Frinchmin.  They  both  be  fur- 
riners,  but  they  be  classed  different.  Th5 
respictible  Frinchmin  is  no  worse  than  th' 
Dutch,  and  is  classed  as  Dutch,  but  th' 
other  kind  is  Dagos.  There  is  no  harm  in 
th'  Dutch  Frinchmin,  for  thim  is  such  as 
Napoleon  Bonnypart  and  the  like  of  him, 
but  ye  want  t'  have  nawthin'  t'  do  with  th' 
Dago  Frinch.  They  be  a  bad  lot." 

"There  was  a  Frinchmin  askin'  would  I 
give  him  a  room  and  board,  this  mornin'," 
said  Mrs.  Muldoon. 

Flannery  nodded  knowingly. 

"  I  knowed  it !"  he  cried.  "  'T  was  apparent 
t'  me  th'  minute  ye  spoke,  mam.  And  agin 
th'  Dutch  Frinch  I  have  nawthin'  t'  say. 
If  he  be  a  Dutch  Frinchmin  let  him  come. 
Was  he  that  P" 


FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS          71 

"Sure,  I  don't  know,"  said  Mrs.  Muldoon, 
perplexed.  "He  was  a  pleasant-spoken  man, 
enough.  'T  is  a  professor  he  is." 

"There  be  many  kinds  of  professors," 
said  Mike. 

"Sure!"  agreed  Mrs.  Muldoon.  "This 
wan  is  a  professor  of  fleas." 

Mike  Flannery  grinned  silently  at  his  plate. 

"I  have  heard  of  thim,  too!"  he  said. 
"But  'tis  of  insects  they  be  professors,  and 
not  of  one  kind  of  insects  alone,  Mrs.  Mul- 
doon, mam.  Ye  have  mistook  th'  under- 
standin'  of  what  he  was  sayin'." 

"I  beg  pardon  to  ye,  Mr.  Flannery,"  said 
Mrs.  Muldoon,  with  some  spirit,  "but  'tis 
not  mistook  I  am.  Fleas  th'  professor  said, 
and  no  mistake  at  all." 

" Yis  ?"  inquired  Flannery.  "Well,  mebby 
't  is  so.  He  would  be  what  ye  call  one  of 
thim  specialists.  They  do  be  doin'  that 
now,  I  hear,  and  't  is  probable  th'  Frinchmin 
has  fleas  for  his  specialty.  'T  is  like  this, 
mam :  —  all  professors  is  professors ;  then  a 


72          FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS 

bunch  of  professors  separate  off  from  the 
rest  and  be  professors  of  insects;  and  then 
the  professors  of  insects  separate  up,  and 
one  is  professor  of  flies,  and  another  one  is 
professor  of  pinch-bugs,  and  another  is  pro- 
fessor of  toads,  and  another  is  professor  of 
lobsters,  and  so  on  until  all  the  kinds  of 
insects  has  each  a  professor  to  itself.  And 
them  they  call  specialists,  and  each  one 
knows  more  about  his  own  kind  of  insect 
than  any  other  man  in  th'  world  knows. 
So  mebby  the  Frinchmin  is  professor  of 
fleas,  as  ye  say." 

"I  should  think  a  grown  man  would  want 
to  be  professor  of  something  bigger  than 
that,"  said  Mrs.  Muldoon,  "but  there's  no 
accountin'  for  tastes." 

"If  ye  understood,  mam,"  said  Mike 
Flannery,  "ye  would  not  say  that  same,  for 
to  the  flea  professor  th'  flea  is  as  big  as  a 
house.  He  studies  him  throo  a  telescope, 
Mrs.  Muldoon,  that  magnifies  th'  flea  a 
million  times.  Th'  flea  professor  will  take 


FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS  73 

a  dog  with  a  flea  on  him,  mam,  and  look  at 
th'  same  with  his  telescope,  and  th'  flea  will 
be  ten  times  th'  size  of  th'  dog." 

"'Tis  wonderful!"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Muldoon. 

"It  is  so!"  agreed  Mike  Flannery.  "But 
't  is  by  magnifyin'  th'  flea  that  th'  professor 
is  able  t'  study  so  small  an  insect  for  years 
and  years,  disco verin'  new  beauties  every 
day.  One  day  he  will  be  studyin'  th'  small 
toe  of  th'  flea's  left  hind  foot,  and  th'  next 
day  he  will  be  makin'  a  map  of  it,  and  th' 
next  he  will  be  takin'  a  statute  of  it  in  plaster, 
an  th'  next  he  will  be  photygraftin  it,  and  th' 
next  he  will  be  writin'  out  all  he  has  learned 
of  it,  and  then  he  will  be  weeks  and  months 
correspondin'  with  other  flea  professors  in 
all  parts  of  th'  worrld,  seem'  how  what  he 
has  learned  about  th'  little  toe  of  th'  flea's  left 
hind  foot  agrees  with  what  they  have  learned 
about  it,  and  if  they  don't  all  agree,  he  goes 
at  it  agin,  and  does  it  all  over  agin,  and  mebby 
he  dies  when  he  is  ninety  years  old  and  has 


74  FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS 

only  got  one  leg  of  th'  flea  studied  out.  And 
then  some  other  professor  goes  on  where  he 
left  off,  and  takes  up  the  next  leg." 

"And  do  they  get  paid  for  it?"  asked 
Mrs.  Muldoon,  with  surprise. 

"Sure,  they  do!"  said  Flannery.  "Good 
money,  too.  A  good  specialist  professor 
gits  more  than  an  ixpriss  agent.  And  't  is 
right  they  sh'u'd,"  he  added  generously, 
"for  't  is  by  studyin'  th'  feet  of  fleas,  and 
such,  they  learn  about  germs,  and  how  t' 
take  out  your  appendix,  and  'Is  marriage 
a  failure  ?'  and  all  that." 

"Ye  dumbfounder  me,  Mike  Flannery," 
said  Mrs.  Muldoon.  "Ye  should  have  been 
one  of  them  professors  yourself,  what  with 
all  the  knowledge  ye  have.  And  ye  think 
't  would  be  a  good  thing  t'  let  th'  little  Frinch- 
min  come  and  take  a  room?" 

"  'T  would  be  an  honour  to  shake  him  by 
th'  hand,"  said  Mike  Flannery,  and  so  the 
professor  was  admitted  to,  the  board  and 
lodging  of  Mrs,  Muldoon, 


FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS          75 

The  name  of  the  professor  who,  after  a 
short  and  unfruitful  season  at  Coney  Island, 
took  lodging  with  Mrs.  Muldoon,  was 
Jocolino.  He  had  shown  his  educated  fleas 
in  all  the  provinces  of  France,  and  in  Paris 
itself,  but  he  made  a  mistake  when  he 
brought  them  to  America. 

The  professor  was  a  small  man,  and  not 
talkative.  He  was,  if  anything,  inclined  to 
be  silently  moody,  for  luck  was  against  him. 
He  put  his  baggage  in  the  small  bedroom 
that  Mrs.  Muldoon  allotted  to  him,  and 
much  of  the  time  he  spent  in  New  York. 
He  had  fellow  countrymen  there,  and  he  was 
trying  to  raise  a  loan,  with  which  to  buy 
a  canvas  booth  in  which  to  show  his  edu- 
cated insects.  He  received  the  friendly 
advances  of  Flannery  and  the  other  boarders 
rather  coldly.  He  refused  to  discuss  his 
specialty,  or  show  Mike  the  toe  of  the  left 
hind  foot  of  a  flea  through  a  telescope.  When 
he  remained  at  home  after  dinner  he  did 
not  sit  with  the  other  boarders  on  the  porch. 


76          FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS 

but  walked  up  and  down  the  walk,  smoking 
innumerable  cigarettes,  and  thinking,  and 
waving  his  hands  in  mute  conversations  with 
himself. 

"I  dunno  what  ails  th'  professor,"  said 
Mrs.  Muldoon,  one  evening  when  she  and 
Flannery  sat  at  the  table  after  the  rest  had 
left  it. 

Flannery  hesitated. 

"I  would  not  like  to  say  for  sure,  mam," 
he  said,  slowly,  "but  I'm  thinkin'  'tis  a 
loss  he  has  had,  maybe,  that 's  preyin'  on 
his  mind.  Ever  since  ye  told  me,  Missus 
Muldoon,  that  he  was  a  professor  of  th' 
educated  fleas,  I  have  had  doubts  of  th' 
state  of  th'  mind  of  th'  professor.  Th' 
sense  of  studyin'  th'  flea,  mam,  I  can  under- 
stand, that  bein'  th'  way  all  professors  does 
these  days,  but  't  is  not  human  t'  spend 
time  givin'  a  flea  a  college  education.  Th' 
man  that  descinds  t'  be  tutor  t'  a  flea,  and 
t'  teach  it  all  th'  accomplishments,  from 
readin'  and  writin'  t'  arithmetic  and  foot- 


FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS  77 

ball,  mebby,   is   peculiar.     I  will  say  he  is 
dang    peculiar,    Missus    Muldoon,    beggin' 
your  pardon.     Is  there  any  coffee  left  in  the 
pot,  mam?" 

"A  bit,  Mr.  Flannery,  an'  you  're  wel- 
come t'  it." 

"I  understand  th'  feelin'  that  makes  a 
man  educate  a  horse,  like  that  Dutchman 
I  was  readin'  about  in  th'  Sunday  paper  th' 
other  day,"  said  Mike,  "and  teachin'  it  t' 
read  an'  figger,  an'  all  that.  An'  I  can 
see  th'  sinse  of  educatin'  a  pig,  as  has  been 
done,  as  you  well  know,  mam,  for  there  be 
no  doubt  a  man  can  love  a  horse  or  a  pig 
as  well  as  he  can  love  his  own  wife " 

"An'  why  not  a  flea?"  asked  Mrs.  Mul- 
doon. "'Tis  natural  for  an  Irishman  t' 
love  a  pig,  if  't  is  a  pig  worth  lovin',  and 
't  is  natural,  I  make  no  doubt,  for  a  Dutch- 
man t'  love  a  horse  th'  same  way,  and  each 
t'  his  own,  as  th'  sayin'  is.  Mebby  th' 
Frinch  can  learn  t'  love  th'  flea  in  th'  same 
way,  Mr.  Flannery." 


78  FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS 

"I  say  th'  same,  Missus  Muldoon,"  said 
Flannery,  "an'  I  say  th'  professor  has  done 
that  same,  too.  I  say  he  has  educated  th' 
flea,  an'  mebby  raised  it  from  a  baby,  and 
brung  it  from  his  native  land,  mam,  an' 
taught  it,  an'  learned  t'  love  it.  Yes,  Missus 
Muldoon!  But  if  th'  educated  horse  or 
th'  educated  pig  got  loose  would  they  be 
easy  t'  find  agin,  or  would  they  not,  mam? 
And  if  th'  professor  come  t'  have  a  grrand 
love  for  th'  flea  he  has  raised  by  hand,  an' 
taught  like  his  own  son,  an'  th'  flea  run 
off  from  him,  would  th'  educated  flea  be 
easy  t'  find?  Th'  horse  an'  th'  pig  is  ani- 
mals that  is  not  easy  t'  conceal  themselves, 
Missus  Muldoon,  but  th'  flea  is  harrd  t'  find, 
an'  when  ye  have  found  him  he  is  harrd  t' 
put  your  thumb  on.  I  'm  thinkin'  th'  reason 
th'  professor  is  so  down  is  that  he  has  lost  th' 
flea  of  his  hearrt." 

"Poor  man!"  said  Mrs.  Muldoon. 

"An'  th'  reason  I  'm  thinkin'  so,"  said  Flan- 
nery slowly,  and  leaning  toward  Mrs.  Muldoon 


FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS          79 

across  the  table,  "is  that,  if  I  be  not  mistaken, 
Missus  Muldoon,  th'  professor's  educated  flea 
spent  last  night  with  Mike  Flannery!" 

Mrs.  Muldoon  raised  her  hands  with  a 
gesture  of  wonderment. 

"And  listen  to  that,  now!"  she  cried,  in 
astonishment.  "Mike  Flannery,  do  you 
be  thinkin'  th'  professor  has  two  of  them? 
Sure,  and  he  must  have  two  of  them,  for 
was  it  not  mesilf  was  thinkin'  all  last  night 
I  had  th'  same  educated  flea  for  a  bed-felly  ? 
I  would  have  caught  him,"  she  added,  sadly, 
"but  he  was  too  brisk  for  me." 

"There  was  forty-sivin  times  I  thought 
I  had  mine,"  admitted  Flannery,  "but  every 
time  whin  I  took  up  me  thumb  he  had  gone 
some  other  place.  But  I  will  have  him 
to-night!" 

"But  mebby  he  has  gone  by  now,"  said 
Mrs.  Muldoon. 

"  Never  fear,  mam,"  said  Flannery.  "  He  's 
not  gone,  mam,  for  he  has  been  close  to 
me  every  minute  of  th'  day.  I  could  put 


80          FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS 

me  thumb  on  him  this  minute,  if  he  would 
but  wait  'till  I  did  it." 

"Well,  as  for  that,  Mike  Flannery,"  said 
Mrs.  Muldoon,  mischievously,  as  she  arose 
from  the  table,  "go  on  along  with  ye,  and 
don't  be  bringin'  th'  blush  t'  me  face,  but 
whin  I  want  t'  find  th'  one  I  was  speakin' 
of,  I  won't  have  t'  walk  away  from  meself 
t'  find  him  this  minute!" 

The  trained  flea  is  one  of  nature's  mar- 
vels. Everyone  says  so.  A  Bobby  Burns 
might  well  write  a  poem  on  this  "wee,  tim- 
orous, cowerin'  beastie,"  except  that  the 
flea  is  not,  strictly  speaking,  timorous  or 
cowering.  A  flea,  when  it  is  in  good  health 
and  spirits,  will  not  cower  worth  a  cent. 
It  has  ten  times  the  bravery  of  a  lion  —  in 
fact,  one  single  little  flea,  alone  and  unaided, 
will  step  right  up  and  attack  the  noisiest 
lion,  and  never  brag  about  it.  A  lion  is  a 
rank  coward  in  comparison  with  a  flea, 
for  a  lion  will  not  attack  anything  that  it 
has  not  a  good  chance  of  killing,  while  the 


FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS          81 

humble  but  daring  flea  will  boldly  attack 
animals  it  cannot  kill,  and  that  it  knows  it 
cannot  kill.  David  had  at  least  a  chance  to 
kill  Goliath,  but  what  chance  has  a  flea  to 
kill  a  camel?  None  at  all  unless  the  camel 
commits  suicide.  And  dogs!  A  flea  will 
attack  the  most  ferocious  dog  and  think 
nothing  of  it  at  all.  I  have  seen  it  myself. 
That  is  true  bravery.  And  not  only  that  — 
not  only  will  one  flea  attack  a  dog  —  but 
hundreds  of  fleas  will  attack  the  same  dog  at 
the  same  time.  I  have  seen  that  myself, 
too.  And  that  multiplies  the  bravery  of 
the  flea  just  that  much.  One  flea  attacking 
a  dog  is  brave;  one  hundred  fleas  attacking 
the  same  dog  are  therefore  one  hundred  times 
as  brave.  We  really  had  to  give  the  dog 
away,  he  was  carrying  so  much  bravery 
around  with  him  all  the  time. 

Think  of  educating  an  animal  with  a 
brain  about  the  size  of  the  point  of  a  fine 
needle!  And  that  was  what  Professor 
Jocolino  had  done.  The  flea  is  really  one 


82          FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS 

of  nature's  wonders,  like  Niagara  Falls, 
and  Jo  jo  the  dog-faced  man,  and  the  Canon 
of  the  Colorado.  Pull?  For  its  size  the 
educated  flea  can  pull  ten  times  as  much 
as  the  strongest  horse.  Jump?  For  its  size 
the  flea  can  jump  forty  times  as  far  as  the 
most  agile  jack-rabbit.  Its  hide  is  tougher 
than  the  hide  of  a  rhinoceros,  too.  Imagine 
a  rhinoceros  standing  in  Madison  Square, 
in  the  City  of  New  York,  and  suppose  you 
have  crept  up  to  it,  and  are  going  to  pat 
it,  and  your  hand  is  within  one  foot  of  the 
rhinoceros.  And  before  you  can  bring  your 
hand  to  touch  the  beast  suppose  it  makes  a 
leap,  and  goes  darting  through  the  air  so 
rapidly  that  you  can't  see  it  go,  and  that 
before  your  hand  has  fallen  to  where  the 
rhinoceros  was,  the  rhinoceros  has  alighted 
gently  on  top  of  the  City  Hall  at  Philadelphia. 
That  will  give  you  some  idea  of  the  magnificent 
qualities  of  the  flea.  If  we  only  knew  more 
of  these  ordinary  facts  about  things  we  would 
love  things  more. 


FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS  83 

At  the  breakfast  table  the  next  morning 
Professor  Jocolino  sat  silent  and  moody  in 
his  place,  his  head  bent  over  his  breakfast, 
but  the  nine  other  men  at  the  table  eyed 
him  suspiciously.  So  did  Mrs.  Muldoon. 
There  was  no  question  now  that  Professor 
Jocolino  had  lost  his  educated  flea.  There 
was,  in  fact,  ground  for  the  belief  that  the 
professor  had  had  more  than  one  educated 
flea,  and  that  he  had  lost  all  of  them.  There 
was  also  a  belief  that,  however  well  trained 
the  lost  might  be  in  some  ways,  their  manners 
had  not  been  carefully  attended  to,  and 
that  they  had  not  been  trained  to  be  well 
behaved  when  making  visits  to  utter  strangers. 
A  beast  or  bird  that  will  force  itself  upon 
the  hospitality  of  an  utter  stranger  unasked, 
and  then  bite  its  host,  may  be  well  educated, 
but  it  is  not  polite.  The  boarders  looked 
at  Professor  Jocolino  and  frowned.  The 
professor  looked  stolidly  at  his  plate,  and  ate 
hurriedly,  and  left  the  table  before  the  others 
had  finished. 


84  FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS 

'  5T  is  in  me  mind,"  said  Flannery,  when 
the  professor  had  left,  "that  th'  professor 
has  a  whole  college  of  thim  educated  insects, 
an'  that  he  do  be  lettin'  thim  have  a  vaca- 
tion. Or  mebby  th'  class  of  1907  is  grad- 
uated an'  turned  loose  from  th'  university. 
I  had  th'  base-ball  team  an'  th'  football 
gang  spendin'  th'  night  with  me." 

"Ho!"  said  Hogan,  gruffly,  "'twas  th' 
fellys  that  does  th'  high  jump  an'  th'  long 
jump  an'  th'  wide  jump  was  havin'  a  meet 
on  Hogan.  An'  I  will  be  one  of  anny  ten 
of  us  t'  tell  th'  professor  t'  call  th'  scholards 
back  t'  school  agin.  I  be  but  a  plain  unedu- 
cated man,  Missus  Muldoon,  an'  I  have 
no  wish  t'  speak  disrespect  of  thim  as  is 
educated,  but  th'  conversation  of  a  gang  of 
Frinch  educated  fleas  is  annoyin'  t'  a  man 
that  wants  t'  sleep." 

"I  will  speak  t'  th'  professor,  gintlemin," 
said  Mrs.  Muldoon,  "an'  remonstrate  with 
him.  Mary,  me  girrl,"  she  added,  to  the 
maid,  who  was  passing  her  chair,  "would 


FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS          85 

ye  mind  givin'  me  th'  least  bit  of  a  rub 
between  me  shoulders  like?  I  will  speak 
t'  th'  professor,  for  I  have  no  doubt  he  has 
but  t'  say  th'  worrd  t'  his  scholards,  an' 
they  will  all  run  back  where  they  belong." 

But  the  professor  did  not  come  back  that 
day.  He  must  have  had  urgent  business 
in  New  York,  for  he  remained  there  all 
night,  and  all  the  next  day,  too,  and  if  he 
had  not  paid  his  bill  in  advance,  Mrs.  Mul- 
doon  would  have  suspected  that  he  had 
run  away.  But  his  bill  was  paid,  and  his 
luggage  was  still  in  the  room,  and  the  edu- 
cated fleas,  or  their  numerous  offspring, 
explored  the  boarding-house  at  will,  and 
romped  through  all  the  rooms  as  if  they 
owned  them.  If  Professor  Jocolino  had  been 
there  he  would  have  had  to  listen  to  some 
forcible  remonstrances.  It  was  Flannery 
who  at  length  took  the  law  into  his  own 
hands. 

It  was  late  Sunday  evening.  The  upper 
hall  was  dark,  and  Flannery  stole  softly 


86  FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS 

down  the  hall  in  his  socks  and  pushed  open 
the  professor's  door.  The  room  was  quite 
dark,  and  Flannery  stole  into  it  and  closed 
the  door  behind  himself.  He  drew  from 
his  pocket  an  insect-powder  gun,  and  fired 
it.  It  was  an  instrument  something  like  a 
bellows,  and  it  fired  by  a  simple  squeeze, 
sending  a  shower  of  powder  that  fell  in  all 
directions.  It  was  a  light,  yellow  powder, 
and  Flannery  deluged  the  room  with  it.  He 
stole  stealthily  about,  shooting  the  curtains, 
shooting  the  bed,  shooting  the  picture  of 
the  late  Mr.  Timothy  Muldoon,  shooting 
the  floor.  He  bent  down  and  shot  under 
the  bed,  and  under  the  washstand,  until  a 
film  of  yellow  dust  lay  over  the  whole  room, 
and  then  he  turned  to  the  closet  and  opened 
that.  There  hung  Professor  Jocolino's  other 
clothes,  and  Flannery  jerked  them  from  the 
hooks  and  carried  them  at  arm's  length  to 
the  bed,  and  shot  them. 

As  he  was  shooting  into  the  pocket  of  a 
pair  of  striped  trousers  the  door  opened  and 


FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS  87 

Professor  Jocolino  stood  on  the  threshold. 
There  was  no  doubt  in  the  professor's  mind. 
He  was  being  robbed!  He  drew  a  pistol 
from  his  pocket  and  fired.  The  bullet 
whizzed  over  the  bending  Flannery 's  head, 
and  before  the  professor  could  fire  a  second 
time  Flannery  rose  and  turned  and,  with  a 
true  aim,  shot  the  professor! 

Shot  him  full  in  the  face  with  the  insect 
powder,  and  before  the  blinded  man  could 
recover  his  breath  or  spit  out  the  bitter  dose, 
or  wipe  his  eyes,  Flannery  had  him  by  the 
collar  and  had  jerked  him  to  the  head  of 
the  stairs.  It  is  true;  he  kicked  him  down- 
stairs. Not  insultingly,  or  with  bad  feeling, 
but  in  a  moment  of  emotional  insanity,  as 
the  defense  would  say.  This  was  an  extenu- 
ating circumstance,  and  excuses  Flannery, 
but  the  professor,  being  a  foreigner,  could 
not  see  the  fine  point  of  the  distinction,  and 
was  angry. 

That  night  the  professor  did  not  sleep  in 
Westcote,  but  the  next  afternoon  he  appeared 


88  FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS 

at  Mrs.  Muldoon's,  supported  by  Monsieur 
Jules,  the  well-known  Seventh  Avenue  res- 
taurateur, and  Monsieur  Renaud,  who  occu- 
pies an  important  post  as  gar  con  in  Monsieur 
Jules'  establishment. 

"For  the  keek,"  said  the  professor,  "I 
care  not.  I  have  been  keek  before.  The 
keek  by  one  gentleman,  him  I  resent,  him 
I  revenge;  the  keek  by  the  base,  him  I  scorn! 
I  let  the  keek  go,  Madame  Muldoon.  Of 
the  keek  I  say  not  at  all,  but  the  flea!  Ah, 
the  poor  flea!  Excuse  the  weep,  Madame 
Muldoon!" 

The  professor  wept  into  his  handkerchief, 
and  the  two  men  looked  seriously  solemn, 
and  patted  the  professor  on  the  back. 

"Ah,  my  Alphonse,  the  flea!  The  poor 
leetle  flea!"  they  cried. 

"For  the  flea  I  have  the  revenge!"  cried 
the  professor,  fiercely.  "How  you  say  it? 
I  will  be  to  have  the  revenge.  I  would  to 
be  the  revenge  having.  The  revenge  to 
having  will  I  be.  Him  will  I  have,  that 


FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS          89 

revenge  business!  For  why  I  bring  the 
educate  flea  to  those  States  United?  Is  it 
that  they  should  be  deathed?  Is  it  that  a 
Flannery  should  make  them  dead  with  a  — 
with  such  a  thing  like  a  pop-gun  ?  Is  it  for 
these  things  I  educate,  I  teach,  I  culture,  I 
love,  I  cherish  those  flea?  Is  it  for  these 
things  I  give  up  wife,  and  patrie,  and  immi- 
grate myself  out  of  dear  France?  No,  my 
Jules!  No,  my  Jacques!  No,  my  madame! 
Ah,  I  am  one  heart-busted!" 

"Ah,  now,  professor,"  said  Mrs.  Mul- 
doon,  soothingly,  "don't  bawl  annymore. 
There  is  sure  no  use  bawlin'  over  spilt  milk. 
If  they  be  dead,  they  be  dead.  I  would  n't 
cry  over  a  million  dead  fleas." 

"The  American  flea  —  no!"  said  the  pro- 
fessor, haughtily.  "The  Irish  flea  —  no! 
The  flea  au  naturel  —  no !  But  the  educate 
flea  of  la  belle  France?  The  flea  I  have  love, 
and  teach,  and  make  like  a  sister,  a  sweet- 
heart to  me?  The  flea  that  have  act  up  in 
front  of  the  crowned  heads  of  Spain;  that 


90  FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS 

have  travel  on  the  ocean;  that  travel  on 
the  land?  Ah,  Madame  Muldoon,  it  is 
no  common  bunch  of  flea!  Of  my  busted 
feelings  what  will  I  say?  Nothings!  Of 
my  banged-up  heart,  what  will  I  say  ?  Noth- 
ings! But  for  those  dead  flea,  those  poor 
dead  flea,  so  innocents,  so  harmless,  so 
much  money  worth  —  for  those  must  Mon- 
sieur Flannery  compensate." 

As  the  professor's  meaning  dawned  on 
Mrs.  Muldoon  a  look  of  amazement  spread 
over  her  face. 

"And  would  be  ye  makin'  poor  Mike 
Flannery  pay  good  money  for  thim  rascal 
fleas  he  kilt,  and  him  with  his  ankles  so  bit 
up  they  look  like  the  small-pox,  to  say  nothin' 
of  other  folks  which  is  th'  same?"  she  cried. 
"  JT  is  ashamed  ye  should  be,  Mister  Professor, 
bringin'  fleas  into  America  and  lettin'  them 
run  loose!  Ye  should  muzzle  thim,  Mister 
Professor,  if  ye  would  turn  thim  out  to  pas- 
ture in  the  boardin'-house  of  a  poor  widdy 
woman,  and  no  end  of  trouble,  and  worry, 


FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS  91 

and  every  one  sayin',  'Why  did  ye  let  th' 
Dago  come  for,  annyhow?" 

The  professor  and  his  friends  sat  silent 
under  this  attack,  and  when  it  was  finished 
they  arose. 

"Be  so  kind,"  said  the  professor,  politely, 
"  to  tell  the  Flannery  the  ultimatum  of  Mon- 
sieur the  Professor  Jocolino.  One  hundred 
educate  French  flea  have  I  bring  to  the 
States  United.  Of  the  progeny  I  do  not  say. 
One  milliard,  two  milliard,  how  many  is 
those  progeny  I  do  not  know,  but  of  him  I 
speak  not.  Let  him  go.  I  make  the  Flan- 
nery a  present  of  those  progeny.  But  for 
those  one  hundred  fine  educate  French  flea 
must  he  pay.  One  dollar  per  each  educate 
flea  must  he  pay,  that  Flannery!  It  is  the 
ultimatum!  I  come  Sunday  at  past-half  one 
on  the  clock.  That  Flannery  will  the  money 
ready  have,  or  the  law  will  be  on  him.  It 
is  sufficient!" 

The  three  compatriots  bowed  low,  and 
went  away.  For  fully  five  minutes  Mrs. 


92          FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS 

Muldoon  sat  in  a  sort  of  stupor,  and  then 
she  arose  and  went  about  her  work.  After 
all  it  was  Flannery's  business,  and  none  of 
hers,  but  she  wished  the  men  had  gone  to 
Flannery,  instead  of  delegating  her  to  tell 
him. 

"Thief  of  th'  worrld!"  exclaimed  Flan- 
nery, when  she  told  him  the  demand  the 
professor  had  made.  "Sure,  I  have  put  me 
foot  in  it  this  time,  Missus  Muldoon,  for 
kill  thim  I  did,  and  pay  for  thim  I  must,  I 
dare  say,  but  't  will  be  no  fun  t'  do  it !  One 
hunderd  dollars  for  fleas,  mam!  Did  ever 
an  Irishman  pay  the  like  before?  One 
week  ago  Mike  Flannery  would  not  have 
give  one  dollar  for  all  the  fleas  in  th'  worrld. 
But  'Have  to'  is  a  horse  a  man  must  ride, 
whether  he  wants  to  or  no." 

But  the  more  Flannery  thought  about 
having  to  pay  out  one  hundred  dollars  for 
one  hundred  dead  insects  the  less  he  liked  it 
and  the  more  angry  be  became.  It  could 
not  be  denied  that  one  dollar  was  a  reasonable 


FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS  93 

price  for  a  flea  that  had  had  a  good  education. 
A  man  could  hardly  be  expected  to  take  a 
raw  country  flea,  as  you  might  say,  and 
educate  it,  and  give  it  graces  and  teach 
it  dancing  and  all  the  accomplishments 
for  less  than  a  dollar.  But  one  hundred 
dollars  was  a  lot  of  money,  too.  If  it  had 
been  a  matter  of  one  flea  Flannery  would 
not  have  worried,  but  to  pay  out  one  hun- 
dred dollars  in  a  lump  for  flea-slaughter, 
hurt  his  feelings.  He  did  not  believe  the 
fleas  were  worth  the  price,  and  he  inquired 
diligently,  seeking  to  learn  the  market  value 
of  educated  fleas.  There  did  not  seem  to 
be  any  market  value.  One  thing  only  he 
learned,  and  that  was  that  the  government  of 
the  United  States,  in  Congress  assembled, 
had  recognized  that  insects  have  a  value, 
for  he  found  in  the  list  of  customs  duties  this : 
— "  Insects,  not  crude,  J  cent  per  pound 
and  10  per  cent,  ad  valorem." 

As  Flannery  leaned  over  his  counter  at  the 
office    of     the     Interurban     Express     Com- 


94  FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS 

pany  and  spelled  this  out  in  the  book  of 
customs  duties  he  frowned,  but  as  he  looked 
at  it  his  frown  changed  to  a  smile,  and  from 
a  smile  to  a  grin,  and  he  shut  the  book,  and 
put  it  in  his  pocket.  He  was  ready  to  meet 
the  professor. 

"Good  day  to  yez,"  he  said,  cheerfully, 
when  he  went  into  the  little  parlor  on  Sun- 
day afternoon,  and  found  the  professor 
sitting  there,  flanked  by  his  two  fellow  country- 
men. "I  have  come  t'  pay  ye  th'  hunderd 
dollars  Missus  Muldoon  was  tellin5  me  about." 

The  professor  bowed  and  said  nothing. 
The  two  gentlemen  from  Seventh  Avenue 
also  bowed,  and  they,  too,  said  nothing. 

"I  'm  glad  ye  spoke  about  it,"  said  Flan- 
nery,  good-naturedly,  "for  'tis  always  a 
pleasure  to  Mike  Flannery  to  pay  his  honest 
debts,  and  I  might  not  have  thought  of  it  if 
ye  had  not  mentioned  it.  I  was  thinkin' 
them  was  nawthin'  but  common,  ignorant 
fleas,  professor." 

"Ah,   no!"    cried    the    professor.      "The 


FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS  95 

very  educate  flea!  The  flea  of  wisdom! 
The  very  teached  flea!" 

"Hear  that,  now!"  said  Flannery,  "and  did 
they  really  come  all  th'  way  from  France,  pro- 
fessor ?  Or  is  this  a  joke  ye  are  play  in'  on  me  ?" 

"The  truly  French  flea!"  explained  the 
professor.  "From  Paris  herselfs.  The 
genuine.  The  import  flea." 

"And  to  think  ye  brought  thim  all  th' 
way  yerself ,  professor !  For  ye  did,  I  believe  ?" 

"Certain!"  cried  all  three. 

"An5  t'  think  of  a  flea  bein'  worth  a  dollar! 
said  Flannery.  "Thim  can't  be  crude  fleas 
at  sich  a  price,  professor." 

"No!  Certain,  no!"  cried  the  three  men 
again. 

"  Not  crude,"  said  Flannery,  "  and  imported 
by  th'  professor !  'T  is  odd  I  should  have 
seen  a  refirince  t'  them  very  things  this 
very  day,  professor.  'T  is  in  this  book  here." 
He  took  the  list  of  customs  duties  from 
his  pocket  and  leaned  his  elbows  on  his 
knees,  and  ran  his  hand  down  the  pages. 


.96          FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS 

"'Cattle,  if  less  than  one  year  old,  per 
head,  two  dollars.  All  other,  if  valued  less 
than  $14  per  head,  $3.75;  if  valued  more 
than  $14  per  head,  twinty-sivin  and  one  half 
per  cent.,"  read  Flannery.  "Sure,  fleas 
does  not  count  as  cattle,  professor.  Nor 
does  they  come  in  as  swine,  th'  duty  on 
which  is  one  dollar  an'  fifty  cints  per  head. 
I  know  th'  pig,  an'  I  am  acquainted  with  th' 
flea,  an'  there  is  a  difference  between  thim 
that  annyone  would  recognize.  Nor  do  they 
be  'Horses  an'  Mules'  nor  yet  'Sheep,' 
Some  might  count  them  in  as  'All  other 
live  animals  not  otherwise  specified,  twinty 
per  cent.,'  but  't  was  not  there  I  saw  refirince 
t'  thim.  'Fish,'"  he  read,  "th'  flea  is  no 

more  fish  than  I  am "  He  turned  the 

pages,  and  continued  down  through  that 
wonderful  list  that  embraces  everything 
known  to  man.  The  three  Frenchmen  sat 
on  the  edges  of  their  chairs,  watching  him 
eagerly. 

"Ho,  ho!"  Flannery  sang  out  at  length. 


FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS  97 

"Here  it  is!  *  Insects,  not  crude,  one  quar- 
ter cent  per  pound  and  tin  per  cint.  ad  val- 
orum.'  What  is  ad  valorum,  I  dunno,  but 
't  is  a  wonderful  thing  th'  tariff  is.  Who 
would  be  thinkin'  tin  years  ago  that  Pro- 
fessor Jocolino  would  be  comin'  t'  Ameriky 
with  one  hundred  fleas,  not  crude,  in  his 
dress-suit  portmanteau?  But  th'  Congress 
was  th'  boy  t'  think  of  everything.  'No  free 
fleas!'  says  they.  'Look  at  th'  poor  Amer- 
ican flea,  crude  an'  uneducated,  an'  see  th' 
struggle  it  has,  competin'  with  th'  flea  of 
Europe,  Asia,  an'  Africa.  Down  with  th' 
furrin  flea,'  says  Congress,  'protect  th'  poor 
American  insect.  One  quarter  cent  per  pound 
an'  tin  per  cint.  ad  valorum  for  th'  flea  of 
Europe!" 

Mike  Flannery  brought  his  hand  down 
on  the  book  he  held,  and  the  three  men, 
who  had  been  watching  him  with  a  fasci- 
nated stare,  jumped  nervously. 

"That's  what  Congress  says,"  said  Flan- 
nery, glaring  at  the  professor,  "but  up 


98  FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS 

jumps  th'  Sinator  from  Calif orny.  'Stop!' 
he  says,  '  wait !  'T  is  all  right  enough  for 
th'  East  t'  rule  out  th'  flea,  but  th'  Californian 
loves  th'  flea  like  a  brother.  We  want  free 
fleas.'  Then  up  jumps  th'  Sinator  from  New 
York.  'I  don't  object  t'  th'  plain  or  crude 
flea  comin'  in  free,'  says  he,  'for  there  be 
need  of  thim,  as  me  frind  from  th'  West 
says.  What  amusement  would  th'  dogs  of 
th'  nation  have  but  for  th'  flea?'  says  he. 
'But  I  am  thinkin'  of  th'  sivinty-three  the- 
ayters  on  an'  off  Broadway,'  says  he.  'Shall 
th'  amusemint  industry  of  th'  metropolis 
suffer  from  th'  incoming  of  th'  millions  of 
educated  an'  trained  fleas  of  Europe?  Shall 
Shakespere  an'  Belasco  an'  Shaw  be  put 
out  of  business  by  th'  pauper  flea  theayters 
of  Europe  ?  No!'  says  he.  'I  move  t'  amend 
th'  tariff  of  th'  United  States  t'  read 
that  th'  duty  on  insects,  not  crude,  be  one 
fourth  of  a  cent  per  pound  an'  tin  per  cint. 
ad  valorum,'  he  says,  'which  will  give  th' 
dog  all  th'  crude  fleas  he  wants,  an'  yit  shut 


FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS  99 

out  th'  educated  flea  from  compytition  with 
grand  opera  an'  Barnum's  circus.5  An'  so 
'twas  voted,"  concluded  Mike  Flannery. 

Monsieur  Jules  fidgeted  and  looked  at  his 
watch. 

"Be  easy,"  said  Flannery.  "There's  no 
hurry.  I  'm  waitin'  for  a  frind  of  mine,  an' 
't  is  fine  t'  talk  over  th'  tariff  with  educated 
min  once  in  a  while.  Th'  frind  I  'm  lookin' 
for  anny  minute  now  is  a  fine  expert  on  th' 
subject  of  th'  tariff  himself.  O'Halloran  is 
th'  name  of  him.  Him  as  is  th'  second 
deputy  assistant  collector  of  evidence  of 
fraud  an'  smugglin'  in  th'  revenue  service 
of  th'  United  States.  'T  was  a  mere  matter 
of  doubt  in  me  mind,"  said  Flannery, 
easily,  "regardin'  th'  proper  valuation  of 
th'  professor's  fleas.  I  was  thinkin'  mebby 
one  dollar  was  not  enough  t'  pay  for  a  flea, 
not  crude,  so  I  asks  O'Halloran.  *  'Twill 
be  easy  t'  settle  that,'  says  O'Halloran,  'for 
th'  value  of  thim  will  be  set  down  in  th' 
books  of  th'  United  States,  at  th'  time  whin 


100    FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS 

th'  professor  paid  th'  duty  on  thim.  I  'II 
just  look  an'  see  how  much  th'  duty  was 
paid  on,'  says  he.  'But  mebby  th'  pro- 
fessor paid  no  duty  on  thim,'  I  says.  'Make 
no  doubt  of  that,'  says  O'Halloran,  'for 
unless  th'  professor  was  a  fool  he  would  pay 
th'  duty  like  a  man,  for  th'  penalty  is  fine 
an'  imprisonmint,'  says  O'Halloran,  'an'  I 
make  no  doubt  he  paid  it.  I  will  be  out 
Sunday  at  four,'  says  O'Halloran,  'an'  give 
ye  th'  facts,  an'  I  hope  th'  duty  is  paid  as  it 
should  be,  for  if  't  is  not  paid  't  will  be  me 
duty  t'  arrest  th'  professor  an' "; 

Flannery  stopped  and  listened. 

"Is  that  th'  train  from  th'  city  I  hear?" 
he  said.  "O'Halloran  will  sure  be  on  it." 

The  professor  arose,  and  so  did  the  two 
friends  who  had  come  with  him  to  help  him 
carry  home  the  one  hundred  dollars.  The 
professor  slapped  himself  on  the  pockets, 
looked  in  his  hat,  and  slapped  himself  on 
the  pockets  again. 

"Mon  Dieu!"    he    exclaimed,    and    in    an 


FLEAS  WILL  BE  FLEAS         101 

instant  he  and  his  friends  were  in  an  excited 
conversation  that  went  at  the  rate  of  three 
hundred  words  a  minute.  Then  the  pro- 
fessor turned  to  Flannery  v 

"I  return,"  he  said.  "I  have  lost  the  most 
valued  thing,  the  picture  of  the  dear  mamma. 
It  is  lost!  It  is  picked  of  the  pocket!  Vil- 
lains !  I  go  to  the  police.  I  return." 

He  did  not  wait  for  permission,  but  went, 
and  that  was  the  last  Mike  Flannery  or 
Mrs.  Muldoon  ever  saw  of  him. 

"An'  t'  think  of  me  a  free  trader  every 
day  of  me  born  life,"  said  Mike  Flannery 
that  evening  to  Mrs.  Muldoon,  "but  I  be  so 
no  more.  I  see  th'  protection  there  is  in  th' 
protective  tariff,  Missus  Muldoon,  mam." 


THIS  BOOK  IS   DUE   ON   THE   LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


RENEWED  BOOKS  ARE  SUBJECT  TO  IMMEDIATE 
RECALL 


LIBRARY 

DUE  OCT  2  6  1969 
OCT18R 


LIBRARY,  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  DAVIS 
Book  Slip-2B»-6,'86(G3853s4)458 


N2  477044 

PS3503 
Butler,  E.P.  U85 

Mike  Flannery  on  duty    M5 
and  off. 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


